


MILO

by spinner33



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Amnesia, Danny and the Team to the Rescue!, Evil Scientist Kidnaps Steve, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 07:32:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 55,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5197559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinner33/pseuds/spinner33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Geist's world is turned upside-down when he's abducted from his Manhattan high-rise by a military-style team of government agents and police.   </p><p>Now he has to decide if he can trust the group of people who are telling him that everything he knows, or thinks he knows, is nothing but a lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fireman

There was a strange scent on the air when Jim woke that morning. A palpable imbalance in the universe yanked him from a nightmare about rolling ocean waves, bright sunshine, and drowning in heavy surf. It took him several minutes to draw in a chestful of air and convince himself that he was not drowning. 

Jim shivered when he opened the balcony door and pulled the curtains aside. The usual skyline greeted him. Pigeons and winter clouds and gray stones. The acrid smell of the city. The penthouse was far enough above the New York City streets below that only the barest hint of traffic noise could be heard. That didn’t stop the smell though. Jim glanced over. There were fire trucks wailing in the distance down the avenue. 

A long-haired, black and gray tabby cat leapt down from the stone railing, and glued himself to Jim’s heels. Had Milo spent another night on the balcony? Jim made his way from the quiet bedroom into the spotless bathroom. He showered and shaved and brushed his teeth in the neutral tan HGTV perfection. Libby didn’t like it when Jim fidgeted with the décor, and so he touched everything as little as possible. Jim dressed quickly in exercise sweats, warding off the icy winds which were coming in through the open balcony. Jim pulled on a pair of socks before heading into the kitchen. Milo followed, never more than a step behind. 

“Libby?” Jim called. There was no answer. “Libby?” he called again. 

His voice barely carried beyond the confines of the sterile kitchen. Jim made coffee, and pulled the breakfast plate from the fridge – grapes, brie, and a sliced, toasted, plain bagel. He put a tiny plate of diced turkey down on the floor for Milo. He petted the cat, and went to the front door. The paper waited on the tall, thin hallway table. A note from Libby was there as well. A landline phone lurked on the table. Above the table was a bank of three screens, showing the exterior of the front door, the lobby of the apartment complex, and the balcony to Jim and Libby’s bedroom. 

Libby was at the office if he needed her. Lunch was in the fridge – turkey on whole wheat with low-fat cheese and fat-free mayo; tossed salad with tomatoes waited in the crisper; fresh fruit as well. Don’t forget to take your medications. Don’t spend the whole day watching bad movies on TV. 

Jim folded up the note, and stuffed it in his pocket. He saved all of Libby’s notes. He glanced at the headlines, and left the paper where it was. Same old, same old. He thought they might have even used stock photos that he had seen before. He picked up his cup of coffee, added low-fat milk and a hint of sugar. Milo frowned at the offer of milk. Jim headed straight for the den, a room that was just as lifeless and gray as the rest of the high-rent apartment. He sat on the rowing machine, took one last sip of coffee, and began his morning exercise routine. He did not turn on the TV. Milo sat on the couch, and watched Jim exercise. He smiled as he drifted to sleep. 

Jim was fifteen minutes into his rowing when the fire alarm sounded. Milo started awake. At first Jim wasn’t sure what the strange sound was. Then he knew instinctively that he was in danger. Every cell in his body screamed that he should flee for cover. He was terrified, heart pounding. Should he go into the panic room, or out on the balcony? He shouldn’t leave the apartment. Libby would be upset. 

Milo wasn’t concerned. He jumped down off the couch, walked over to Jim, and rubbed against him. Jim calmed at the touch. He followed the cat out of the den, towards the kitchen. He realized that the cat was headed for the front door, and that’s when Jim stopped in his tracks. 

Jim knew better than to leave the apartment. Libby had expressly forbidden it. The last time he had left on his own, he had wandered New York City for three days before she tracked him down. Milo pawed at the portal. There were tendrils of smoke rising from the crack between the door and the floor. Jim didn’t want to open the door. Libby would be upset. Milo was frowning, ears pulled back. He pawed the door, insisting that Jim should leave. Jim wanted to retreat to his bedroom, to hide on the balcony, or hide in the panic room. That’s what he had done last week when the cable workers had knocked on the front door while Libby wasn’t home. They eventually went away.

Two days ago though, Jim had spoken through the front door to a cheerful young woman with red-blonde hair, green eyes, and a heart-shaped face. She was an interior designer there for an appointment with the neighbors in P211. Jim explained that he had met the couple, and they were very nice. They had a small dog which barked at Milo from the adjacent balcony. They were right around the corner, he explained, but she seemed much more interested in getting inside Libby and Jim’s place than in meeting her appointment. 

At first Jim had refused to let her in, but when she asked for a glass of water and then to use the restroom, he relented. He opened the safety chain and opened the door. He pointed her to the guest half-bath, and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge for her. The silent alarm was tripped when Jim opened the door, and he watched in fascination as the red lights lit up the panel by the landline phone. She sipped her bottle of water, and watched the panel with nervous amusement. 

The young woman hadn’t been inside with Jim for more than five minutes before the apartment doorman and two security people knocked on P311’s door to check on Jim. The muscular brutes waited inside the apartment as long as the young woman stayed there. She showed Jim several different swatches and samples of brilliant paint colors which would have improved the bland kitchen. She had been aghast at the neutral color scheme. She started towards the half-bath, eyes taking in the hallway and the bedroom in the distance, pulling another swatch sample from her attaché. Jim had lingered over many of them, and she let him touch each and every one of them. The security detail had had enough. They escorted her quickly away, but not before she slipped a card to Jim and asked him to give it to Libby. Jim had done so that evening. Libby had spent an hour lecturing him about letting strangers in. He agreed not to do it again. 

Heavy boots were thundering down the hallway. The sound set off a shiver of remembrance in Jim’s brain, and for one insane minute, it was a call-to-arms for him. He should follow those boots, fall in line, do exact what he was told to do. Someone was knocking at the door, pounding emphatically. Jim glanced at the cameras. Why come straight to this door when there were three other penthouse apartments on this floor? Shouldn’t the other residents be evacuated too? He knew that P111 had two small children. There were several firefighters peering back at the camera eye, in particular, a small, compact man with blond hair and porcelain blue eyes. 

“NYPD Fire Department! James Geist! Mr. Geist!? Babe!? Open the door!” 

Jim clicked the dead bolt closed, and retreated away from the door. 

“I don’t believe it. Someone just locked the fucking deadbolt,” the small man complained angrily to the thin but muscular balding man next to him.

“Break it down!” the balding man ordered loudly. The firefighters hefted a metal battering ram into place, aiming it straight for the door. 

Jim was retreating into the bedroom when Milo tripped him. His coordination wasn’t what it used to be. He was better, but he was not himself, and he knew that. The exercise was building his endurance, and improving his coordination, but he would never be the same. He knew that his best option was to flee, but where to? He might make it to the panic room if he could get up. The hidden entrance was in the closet in the bedroom. He knew to go there and wait for Libby if someone he didn’t know came to the apartment.

The front door burst open in a cascade of wood splinters and smoke. The panel of red lights lit up like an evening traffic jam. The penthouse’s more vocal alarm system added its own cacophony to the fire alarms blaring in the hallway. Flames in red and orange and wild yellows were licking their way inside the apartment. Jim pulled himself upright with much effort, holding a forearm over his face as he coughed and fought for air. A fireman in a heavy beige suit and a red hat rushed to Jim’s side. Instead of guiding him towards the open front door, the fireman took a powerful grip on Jim’s arm and around his waist, and pulled him into the bedroom. Cold air and suction were pulling the smoke and flames towards the small hall. More firefighters rushed the apartment. All of them paused to stare at Jim in shock and horror. 

“Snap to it! Collect it all as evidence! Everything! Do you hear me?!”

The balding man in his late sixties was ordering the others around. He had a grizzled beard, and the biggest teeth Jim had ever seen. He swung his long rifle up onto his back, and strutted around, surveying the others as they worked. He had a very military bearing, and it was clear he was in command. He smiled brightly at Jim, who was holding onto the doorway into the bedroom.

“How are you are, son?” he asked carefully. Jim gaped at him in silence. There were more words trapped behind the balding man’s big teeth, but he tamped down those words and those emotions, and stuck to his mission. He did reach out to pat Jim gently on one shoulder. 

The firefighters weren’t putting out the flames from the hallway. They were boxing up the contents of the apartment in a flash-quick fashion which made it clear they had practiced this procedure and they knew it by rote. Books, photos, and Libby’s precious décor – everything went into boxes and was carted out the front of the apartment with military precision. 

The fireman who had pulled Jim out of the short hallway closed the bedroom door. It was the compact blond man with porcelain blue eyes. He guided Jim into the meager light falling through the curtains and the open balcony. He stepped onto the balcony, and looked up into the sky expectantly. There was urgency in his movements, which Jim agreed was necessary if not mandatory. Time must be of the essence, if flames were encroaching on the twenty-seventh floor of an apartment building like this. 

Who were these people if they weren’t actual firefighters? Were they thieves? Were they killers? Why were they here? Why this apartment in particular? This wasn’t a random event, of that Jim was certain. He thought about pushing his way towards the panic room entrance, hidden inside the big closet, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get this best of this man guarding him. That was what he was doing, no doubt, guarding Jim. But why?

Besides, locking himself inside a small room in the event of a fire consuming the building was the stupidest thing Jim could have done. They should be headed down the stairs, out of the building. So what was the fireman waiting for? His job wasn’t getting Jim out. It was keeping Jim in here, out of the way. 

The stranger was staring at Jim with a mixture of joy and fear in his eyes. The fireman turned him left and right to make sure Jim wasn’t wounded. He was choking on a grin that wanted to split his face open. He was a stout man—solid and muscular. He peeled out of the firefighter suit, tossing the heavy jacket down on the bed. He was wearing dress pants and a button-down shirt underneath. He had the best ass. Well, that was a curious and random thought! Jim sat down on the end of the bed, sure he should be frightened of this stranger. Except that he wasn’t frightened at all, not of him. The fireman had a very protective aura about him as he brushed a tentative hand to Jim’s hair, then slid the hand onto his shoulder. 

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” the fireman stammered. 

Jim shook his head no. 

The fireman pulled off his hat, fluffed up his blond hair, and then smoothed it back down again. He moved back and forth a little between both feet, holding out both arms as if presenting himself for a hug or for display. Jim tilted his head in confusion, which only made the other man smile wider. 

“I’ve got a little less hair, I know. It’s turning white. Having a teenage daughter will do that to you. Does that help?” the fireman choked on a tiny, painful laugh, his porcelain blue eyes filled with hope. 

Jim shook his head no again. The fireman could not contain his disappointment.

“Are you from New Jersey?” Jim asked, wanting to console the hurt he was causing. The other man faltered but he recovered quickly. 

“Dutch said you appeared to have cognitive issues. Yes, I’m from Jersey. That’s good. It’s a good start,” he said finally, his eyes brimming with affection. He put a soothing hand on Jim’s arm. “Are you cold, babe?”

The fireman rubbed one hand on the sleeve of Jim’s thin teeshirt. The warmth of the touch bled through easily. His eyes traveled downward as he lifted the sleeve of Jim’s teeshirt, and slid fingertips over the clean skin he found there. His eyes were wide with disbelief. 

“She erased your ink?” the fireman gasped. He checked the other shoulder too. 

Jim traced his own skin, and their fingers brushed together. Colors and images whirled in Jim’s mind – a lotus flower and a meditating man, varying shades of blue and green. But how could the fireman know what Jim dreamed about? 

“Oh, babe. What has she done to you?” the fireman whispered as he gripped Jim’s hand and brushed a kiss to his forehead. Jim shivered and withdrew slightly away. “Don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you. Everything will come back to you in time. I’m sure it will. Right now we just need to get you out of here.” 

A rope ladder fell out of the sky onto the balcony. Two people in military gear with rifles on their backs jumped down from the nearly-soundless helicopter that was hovering outside. The fireman leapt at the newcomers, and he was not happy. 

“Jesus H. Christ! Where da fuck have you been?!” he complained, gesturing anxiously with hands curled into claws, elbows tight to his ribs. 

“Do you know how hard it is to get a helicopter through New York City airspace, unnoticed?” one of the men grinned, pulling off his helmet. He was a slightly-built Asian man with high cheekbones. He took one look at Jim, and his mouth fell open. “Steve?” he whispered reverently. 

“Boss!” the second man yelled as he peeled off his helmet and threw it down. It rolled away like a decapitated head, making Jim queasy. The removal of the helmet revealed a hidden cache of long, dark hair. Jim realized it wasn’t a man at all when the strange woman hugged him ruthlessly. She and the first man shared similar facial characteristics. Jim wouldn’t have been surprised if they were related. 

“Kono, we haven’t got time for teary reunions. Dr. Dreadful has no doubt been alerted. We have to get him out of here,” the fireman scolded, leaving his hat on the bed, which he was staring at with narrowed eyes. Jim wondered what was so strange – a queen-sized bed with two pillows, and a fleur-de-lis pattern on the duvet covers. Or was he staring at the medication bottles laid out on Jim’s side of the bed? Jim realized he hadn’t taken his medication yet. Should he do that now? 

“Steve, brah, come with us,” the first man from the helicopter said, putting out a hand to Jim. The bedroom door opened, and the older man with military bearing burst in.

“Okay, people! Look alive! Shit has officially hit the fan. This is the last room. We’ll box it up next. But you have to get the Commander out of here, pronto!” 

“Front door, Joe?” the fireman asked. 

“Negative! Her people are coming up the stairs. Get him in the bird! Now!” 

“Fuck,” the fireman cursed. “There’s not enough room!” 

“Get going, Jersey. We got this,” the Asian man said, pulling the rifle from his back with a practiced swing, and exchanging a glance with the female of the group. She pulled her rifle into position too. They grinned to each other with mischief and mayhem in their eyes. 

“Up you go, Boss,” the long haired woman explained to Jim. She shoved him towards the balcony and the rope ladder. Jim froze in his tracks and pushed back. 

“Where’s Milo?” he fretted. Everyone froze and stared around. Jim was down on the floor, looking under the bed, searching for his cat. 

“Chin, who’s Milo?” the female commando whispered to the Asian man with high cheekbones. 

“No idea,” he whispered back, watching Jim crawl around. 

“Who is Milo?” the fireman asked. 

“I can’t leave without Milo," Jim insisted. 

“Dutch’s intel didn’t say anything about a cat,” the woman complained. 

“I can’t leave without Milo,” Jim protested more firmly. 

“Get in the chopper, Steve! We’ll find Milo for you!” 

In spite of their height difference, the fireman grabbed Jim firmly by the nape of his neck and the small of his back, and pushed him bodily up into the helicopter, which was practically landing on the balcony at this point. The fireman climbed in, and a young soldier in the chopper retracted the ladder. Jim wasn’t even buckled in securely before they were lifting off. 

“Milo!” Jim was screaming, fighting back. The fireman held his arms and shoved him down into the seat. 

“STEVE!? CALM DOWN!” he shouted, right in Jim’s face. 

“I’m not leaving without Milo!” Jim yelled back. 

A tiny meow and a familiar brush against his lower leg shook Jim out of his panicked state. The fireman watched Jim with a terrified gaze as Jim immediately calmed, like a wall had come down between the two states of mind – panic and calm. He reached down to stroke Milo’s fur. 

“Milo?” the fireman asked tentatively. 

“Milo,” Jim replied, scooping up the long-haired tabby and holding him close. 

The fireman buckled himself into the chair across from Jim, never taking his eyes off him. Their knees bounced and brushed against each other. The fireman lifted a large jacket from the seat next to him, and draped it around Jim’s shivering shoulders. Snow was falling outside the bubble of the chopper. 

“Do you have him?” the fireman asked as he let his hands slide down Jim’s shoulders and to his elbows. 

“In my lap,” Jim replied simply. The soldier and the pilot exchanged a concerned glance. 

“Detective Williams?” the soldier murmured. 

“Shut your mouth, Sharp. If Steve says Milo is in his lap, then Milo is in his lap. Do I make myself clear?!” the fireman snapped.

“Yes, sir,” the young soldier replied. He saluted and slammed the chopper door. There was gunfire erupting below.

“There’s been a mistake. My name isn't Steve. If ransom is what you’re after, you’ve kidnapped the wrong guy,” Jim murmured. He stroked Milo’s fur. Surprisingly, the cat wasn’t at all disturbed by the chaos. Milo purred happily as he watched Detective Williams with keen eyes. 

Detective Williams stared at Jim’s face, and then at his empty lap. He took a deep breath, and rubbed Jim’s shoulder. 

“Don’t worry, Steve. It’s going to be okay.”

“I told you. My name isn’t Steve. My name is James Geist.” 

“Your name is Steve McGarrett,” Detective Williams corrected. Jim shivered, and drew Milo closer. 

 

 


	2. The Promise

“You’re telling me that you and your team torched a thirty-story, multi-billion dollar, Manhattan high-rise to extract one man?” 

“No. We torched a twenty-seven story Manhattan high-rise to extract one man, the contents of his apartment, and his imaginary cat,” Danny retorted as Governor Denning bellowed back. 

“Detective Williams, this is no time for sarcasm! I’ve got a mayor, a chief of police, a team of Navy lawyers, and fellow state governor all barking up my ass over what you’ve done! Where did Joe White and his cohorts disappear to?” 

“I haven’t got the faintest idea!” Danny replied. Which was the truth, because when a man who specializes in covert black ops tells you you’re safer not knowing, you do not play Twenty Questions! 

“Why did they take everything out of Dr. Handler’s apartment?” 

“Evidence. You should know that we also raided Dr. Handler’s lab, but she and her lab assistants, or should I say accomplices, had already fled.”

“Slow down, Detective Williams. I cautioned you about doing this the right way.”

Danny bristled angrily, “After what she’s done?” 

“You have no proof.”

“I have Steve.” 

“Williams, you don’t know that the man you found is Steve McGarrett. Even if he is McGarrett, he’s not the same McGarrett that he was before….before….all this happened.”

The Governor’s voice trailed off. Danny wanted to pull his sidearm and shoot the governor, but he restrained himself. Score one for patience and mercy. Also, it’s extremely difficult to shoot someone who is thousands of miles away. Difficult, but not impossible. 

“Dr. Handler kidnapped Steve, and she’s spent three years using him as a guinea pig for her behavioral modification experiments. I have spent the last one thousand, one hundred, and twenty-two days, moving Heaven and Earth to find Steve! I don’t care about your damned Manhattan high-rise! I don’t care about mayors or lawyers or governors or police! I don’t care about anything but bringing Steve home to Hawaii, and helping him heal. That’s what I care about! That, and putting Dr. Handler in an electrified cage, but we’ll get to that eventually!!” Danny screamed. He was sure his voice was carrying through the glass one-way mirror, but he didn’t care. The glass was wobbling with each word he shouted. 

“Detective, are you positive that this guy is Steve McGarrett?”

“Dutch took two blood samples, and the CIA is running DNA tests. They’re also running toxicology tests, so we can get some idea what kind of drugs Handler has been pumping into Steve’s system to keep him calm and docile,” Danny said as he leaned back against the wall of the interior observation room. 

Dutch Vandervries, his CIA contact, was on the other side of the glass. Kono and Chin were in the observation room with Danny. Dutch’s eyes were glued to the one-way glass. Steve was sitting at the table. McGarrett looked confused and exhausted. He stifled a yawn and shrank down a little in his chair, rubbing the cotton ball that was taped to the crook of his elbow. 

Danny didn’t need DNA tests to prove what he already knew. This man was Steve McGarrett. His hair was longer, a mass of curls and waves which touched the nape of his neck and slid against his cheeks, a combination of silver and black and a little blue even. That nose was nearly the same nose, though it did lean a hint further to the right than Danny remembered. Handler and her goons had forced McGarrett’s truck off the road and down a deep ravine in order to kidnap him, and that kind of accident is bound to leave marks on a man. 

Those lips were the same, though the way he held his mouth was much different. A lot of nervous biting had left teeth marks. There were a couple unfamiliar scars on his chin. Those eyes were the same mercurial blue, like summer storm clouds rolling over mountains. Instead of cock-sure arrogance, uneasy nervousness looked back. Steve watched Dutch, and hugged himself tighter. McGarrett was thinner, and his inked shoulder tatts had been removed. How had Dr. Handler managed that? Skin grafts? It must have been skin grafts. 

The body language was what bothered Danny the most. Steve moved awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure where to put his feet. He did not move with the same grace and precision as before. He was clumsy and unsure. His hands were shaking. Shoulders rounded. Feet and legs tucked tight together. 

The whole business with Milo the imaginary cat was plenty fucking disturbing, Williams wasn’t going to kid himself. Danny was sure that in Steve’s mind’s eye that Milo was real, and he was furry, and he was purring, and he might even be swishing his tail. But from the outside, Steve was sitting there, whispering comforting words under his breath, consoling a chimera as he stroked his own forearm.

What in the world had Dr. Handler done to him? Had she caused a catastrophic mental impairment with those drugs, or was the damage caused by the accident? Was it all an illusory by-product of Steve dealing with whatever mind torture Handler had used on him? Behavior modification. Danny shuddered at the idea of what Steve had gone through. Danny’s blood pressure raced, and his fury burned to the surface, but most of all, he felt anxious pity. He had promised he would make it all better, but the truth was that he had no idea where to begin. 

Danny needed to get Steve home to Honolulu, get him to a real doctor who knew him, get him checked over from head to toe and everywhere in between. 

“I’ve been asked to hand you and your team over to the authorities when you reach Hawaii,” Governor Denning murmured. “The Navy wants to take this man into custody to verify his identity.” 

Danny rumbled dangerous laughter. “I’ll shoot the first bastard in a Navy uniform that lays a hand on Steve.” 

“You’ve got to give me something to go on, Detective Williams. You gotta give me some proof that what you’re saying is true.” 

“As soon as the DNA tests are done, I’ll have proof,” Danny replied. “I’m not turning Steve over to anyone’s custody, but especially not the Navy. They’re the reason he’s in this mess!” 

“Did you run his fingerprints? Are they a match to his military records?” 

Danny blew out an annoyed growl.

“Steve’s military records are sealed, due to the confidential nature of his services to his country. I don’t have the authority to demand to open them, and the Navy isn’t feeling cooperative.”

“What about Joe White?” 

“He retired from the Navy. He’s doing what he’s doing for us on his own time. The Navy won’t listen to him any more than they’ll listen to me. Apparently the Navy prefers that Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett to be a decorated dead hero instead of a live kidnap victim, particularly when they are the ones responsible for his predicament.” 

“The Navy promised me they had nothing to do with McGarrett’s abduction.” 

“They lied,” Danny growled. 

“They want to confirm this man’s identity. If he is Steve McGarrett, they will be the first people to say so,” the governor insisted. 

Danny snorted in reply. 

“What about that female lieutenant in Naval Intelligence that McGarrett was dating for a while? Can’t she help you?” the governor asked. 

“Rollins left the Navy and apparently went to work for the CIA. She’s disappeared on some super-secret undercover mission in Afghanistan. Whatever,” Danny mocked contemptuously. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize,” the governor squirmed. 

“Rollins hasn’t been seen in almost three years. Wherever she is, it’s pretty clear she doesn’t give a shit what happened to Steve, or she would have been helping us search for him all along,” Danny raged. 

“Okay. There’s no need to get hostile with me about it,” the governor’s voice dropped low. “What about McGarrett’s mother? Doesn’t she work for the CIA?” 

“We haven’t heard a peep out of Doris in years. Don’t expect to either. Prefer not to, if I’m being perfectly honest here. The last person Steve needs right now is his good-for-nothing mother.” 

“Can you send his prints to me? Let me see what I can do.”

“What?” Danny couldn’t contain his surprise. 

“If you’ll remember, we arrested Steve McGarrett years ago when we thought he was responsible for killing Ms. Hill and Governor Jameson. Hawaii has his prints on file. Prints and mugshots. I can get you started on proving if the guy is or isn’t McGarrett. Facial recognition software should be a big help. Send me a picture too.”

“You’d do that?” Danny asked, his voice rising. 

“Williams, email me the info and the picture. Whoever he is, I want that man on a plane to Honolulu within the hour.” 

“Yes, sir. Thank you. Thank you very much.” 

“Don’t worry. We’ll sort this shit out. And you’re welcome,” Denning replied, disconnecting the call.  
 


	3. The Yellow Brick Room

The door to the yellow brick room opened, and Detective Williams appeared. Steve looked up from the table. A sharp blink of light made him jolt. Detective Williams tapped buttons on his phone, then slid it into his breast pocket. 

Williams had washed his face, and dressed in a clean suit. His blond-white hair was once again a coifed helmet of perfection. He was a welcome sight, not just because he was carrying a cup of coffee. 

“Dutch, do you mind? We need a few minutes of privacy,” Detective Williams ordered as he shifted the weight of the canvas duffel he was carrying. The other two people who had also been part of the team which had kidnapped Steve entered the small room behind Detective Williams. They smiled reassuringly at the prisoner while leaning against the far wall to his right. 

“I can give you five minutes, but we’ve got to get moving,” Dutch replied. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Williams nodded. 

She stepped out of the small room, but stood at the door. 

“Hi. I’m Chin Ho Kelly,” the Asian man with awesome cheekbones said, extending a handshake. Steve timidly accepted. 

“Kono Kalakaua. I’m…we’re… it’s so good to see you, Steve.” The young woman shook his hand with both of hers, her voice cracking as she spoke. 

“My name is Geist, James Geist,” Steve insisted softly. He turned his attention to Detective Williams, who was gazing longingly back at him. Chin cleared his throat too, and jerked his chin. Danny decided he would play along. He extended his hand. Steve accepted. 

“Detective Danny Williams. Hawaii Major Crimes Task Force.”

“Who is she?” Steve asked, glancing towards Dutch outside the door. 

“That’s Agent Candace Vandervries, CIA. Dutch,” Danny explained. 

“I recognize her. She came to the door two days ago. Said she was an interior decorator. She was an advance guard, there to gather information for you and your team, wasn’t she? How long have you been planning this?” Steve’s voice trailed off. Danny looked down at his watch and cackled softly. Steve’s brows furrowed together. 

“Agent Vandervries located you during the course of her investigations into Dr. Handler’s criminal activities. She executed a face-to-face confirmation two days ago, and then she tracked us down yesterday in Oahu,” Chin replied. 

“We’ve never stopped looking for you, brah,” Kono swore with tears in her eyes. Danny sniffed and cleared his throat again. 

“What did Governor Denning have to say?” Chin asked. 

“Meh,” Danny hedged. 

“We were in the room, man,” Chin almost laughed. “We know it didn’t go well.” 

“You were shouting pretty loudly,” Kono added. 

“Governor Denning wants us on a plane within the hour, back in Honolulu as fast as possible. We can’t exactly fly commercial, if you know what I mean? We’re going to have to move under the radar,” Danny answered. 

“One thing for certain. We can’t accept help from the Navy,” Chin muttered. Danny agreed with a snort. “They’re the ones who were financing these unholy experiments.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they offered Steve up as the perfect test subject, considering her area of expertise,” Kono agreed. 

“You see Navy, you shoot to kill, is that understood?” Danny ordered grimly.

“Understood,” Chin and Kono both answered. 

“Don’t worry. We’ll get through this,” Williams offered. Steve watched them all carefully. 

“What are we going to do about Milo?” Kono wondered, hardly moving her lips as she spoke. 

“Roll with it,” Williams suggested with a one-shoulder shrug. The other two stared sideways at Danny. He lifted his hands in a gesture of submission, like what else do you want me to say?

Chin’s phone bleated loudly. He stepped out into the hallway, dragging Kono by one arm. Dutch stepped back in. She was such a sweet-faced kid, but at the moment, the way she was staring at Steve made Danny’s radar scream. She tucked her phone back in her upper pocket.

“My people just confirmed. The DNA and prints matched. Congratulations, Detective. He is McGarrett.” 

“I’m not even going to ask why the CIA has Steve’s samples on file,” Danny inhaled loudly as he sat down on the chair across the table from Steve. He took several deep breaths, bending in half for a moment as if he were feeling dizzy. 

McGarrett didn’t move a muscle except his eyes, which drifted back and forth between Danny and Dutch. Danny had a very bad feeling when those stormy blue eyes narrowed in distrust and annoyance, not unlike the phantom feline Steve cradled in his folded arms. 

“Agent Vandervries, I appreciate your help, but I think this might be where we have to part ways, for your own safety,” Williams began. “We’ve got to get Steve back to Hawaii, and that is not going to be cake walk.” 

Dutch had an earnest kindness about her, one which she tried desperately to hide beneath a gruff exterior. Her sincerity had taken Danny by surprise, because any CIA agents he had encountered before had been arrogant bastards convinced of their own superiority, which always rubbed him the wrong way. He hoped that the positive vibes he had always gotten from Dutch weren’t about the change for the worse. 

Vandervries twitched and turned her attention from Steve to Danny. 

“I’m sorry to have to pull rank, Detective Williams, but your authority begins and ends on the shores of Paradise, and you’re a long way from home.”

“Oh shit! I knew you were too good to be true!” Danny howled. 

Dutch was very hurt by the accusation. She pouted for a scant millisecond before she pulled her emotions under control. 

“Do I need to remind you that the CIA has authority over US citizens at home and abroad?”

“This is utter bullshit!” Danny raged, leaping out of his chair and towards Dutch. The young agent stood her ground, clenched her fists, and hollered back. 

“Commander McGarrett is elemental to my case! I have to protect him at all costs, even your pride!” Vandervries retorted. 

“You gonna go and pull rank on me now?” Danny complained. 

“I’m sorry. I have no choice. I’m taking you and your team into custody.” 

“Son of a bitch!!” Danny bellowed. Steve flinched. 

“You’ve gotta understand, Detective Williams. Commander McGarrett is my only living material witness to these crimes. Dr. Handler has killed everyone else. She’s left a trail of bodies from Honolulu to Hoboken. I’ve got to stop this woman. Do you understand me? I have to ensure Commander McGarrett’s safety!” 

“You don’t think I want to keep him safe?!”

“I’m in a better position to do that than you are.” 

“I’d hate to have to go through you to get out of here, but I will if I have to, Dutch. You can’t turn the other way? After all we’ve been through?”

“ ‘After all we’ve been through’?!” Dutch exclaimed in exasperation. “I met you twenty-eight hours ago in a dive bar in Oahu!”

“Dutch, don’t do this!” 

“Don’t you lecture me, Detective. I am not a stupid kid. The last time I closed my eyes and ignored my instincts on a case, an international criminal conglomerate crashed the US power grid west of the Rockies. Those bastards were inches from hacking NORAD, and scrambling jets to destroy Moscow. That’s not happening again on my watch.” 

“Holy shit! You’re the one who brought down Battersea?!” Danny blinked in surprise. Steve was watching their conversation like a tennis match. Danny wondered how much of this was he actually processing. 

“I didn’t bring them down single-handedly. I had a lot of help,” Dutch replied. “Look, Danny, I can protect Commander McGarrett and your team, but you have to trust me. If I can get you to Fort Meade by tonight, I can get you to Hawaii by tomorrow,” Dutch continued. “I’m going to have to split you up, and ship Chin and Kono separately. It’ll be safer to do this piece-meal. But we have to move fast. Before the NYPD and the Navy get wind of what’s going on. To say nothing of my boss,” she cringed like a kid. 

“Oh,” Danny whispered, standing up again.

“Do you think you can trust me? I know you two have a lot of catching up to do, but could you have that conversation in the car?” 

“Yes?” Danny hoped. 

“I’ll create some kind of diversion to give you time to get clear of the city at least, maybe even out of the state, but you’re going to have to move fast,” Dutch smiled. “We’re gonna walk right out that door. But you gotta have the right attitude about this. Am I clear?” 

“Oh, babe. I get your drift. I’ll give you all the attitude you want,” Danny promised. He was beginning to smile again. 

“Awesome. Can I put these on you?” she asked, producing cuffs from an interior pocket. 

“You know, Dutch, if I wasn’t a married man, I’d be down on one knee,” Danny grinned, setting the coffee cup on the table and offering up both his hands. She picked up his duffel, and Steve snatched the coffee. 

“Don’t thank me until I get you back to your dive bar in Oahu,” Dutch said, swinging Danny’s arms behind his back and clicking the cuffs around his wrists.

“You do that, Dutch, and I’ll give you a lifetime tab,” Danny promised. “Babe, stay close,” Danny whispered to Steve. 

Vandervries opened the door to the room, snaked a hand to the scruff of Williams’ neck, and dragged him roughly through the NYPD squad room. Danny was ranting loudly and vociferously. 

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE PULLING GODDAMN RANK, LIKE THE SONS-A-BITCHES YOU CIA PEOPLE ALWAYS ARE!” 

His voice carried like a foghorn. Steve followed quietly behind, sipping Danny’s coffee, carrying Milo in a gentle grip. Chin and Kono watched with wild, wide eyes from across the room. Dutch shoved Danny roughly into an open elevator, and reached back to snatch Steve by one elbow. Chin nudged Kono when Dutch raised her chin to them, and motioned to the side stairs.


	4. The SUV to Philadelphia

Steve climbed up into the rear of black SUV which was waiting outside. The men in dark suits who were seated in front gave him curious stares. Maybe they weren’t cat lovers? 

Dutch pushed Danny up inside, and motioned for her own team to climb out. The CIA agents stood in a huddle on the sidewalk as she passed a handcuff key to Danny. She also chucked his duffel up into the floorboard. He sat down backwards, and offered his cuffed hands to Steve. 

“Do you remember how these work?” Danny wondered. 

Steve fingered the cuff key. Why was his first impulse to throw the key out the window and taunt Danny about it? 

“Don’t keep a guy waiting,” Danny complained. Steve unhooked the cuffs, and tucked them down into the back of his waistband. It had been an unconscious motion on his part, something he had done a thousand-thousand times before. Danny watched what he did, and suppressed a faint smirk. 

“Price will be in Philadelphia. He’ll take over from there. I’ll meet you all at Meade in seven hours, but I’ve got a couple loose ends to tie up here,” Dutch explained to her team outside. She reached into the vehicle, casually slipped a hand behind Steve’s waist, and took her cuffs away from him. 

The two agents climbed back into the front, and they took off into traffic. Steve balanced Milo and the cup of coffee as Danny pulled the seatbelt down and around him.

“You good?” Danny asked. Steve raised one brow and gave him the blandest stare he could muster. 

The agents in the front seat glanced back over their shoulders, wearing identical questioning glances. 

“Eyes front,” Danny ordered sternly. The nameless agents obeyed. 

Steve took another sip from Danny’s coffee cup. Williams took the cup to get a sip of his own. Then he settled it into the cup holder in the side of the passenger door. 

“You’re not wearing shoes,” Danny noticed. Steve shrugged. Danny shifted in his seat, reaching down to the duffel at his feet for a couple files. “I know you’re confused, and you’re wondering what this is all about,” William continued, shuffling through brown files and extract one in particular. 

Sarcastic chuckles rumbled deep in Steve’s chest. “Wouldn’t you be?” he asked. There was more than a hint of irritation in his tone. 

“I couldn’t sit down in the apartment, and tell you everything. There wasn’t time to explain. We had to get you out of there. You were in danger.” 

“I wasn’t in any danger,” Steve disagreed. 

Danny fingered the edge of the file. This was going to be a harder sell than he thought! He hesitated, afraid that the next words out of his mouth would make or break this entire game. 

“Are we going to play ‘Show and Tell’ now?” Steve whispered dangerously.

“What do you think this is all about?” Danny countered. 

“Do you plan to hold me for ransom? Libby and I are not wealthy. But you know that. You must have done your homework. This would have taken planning. Who were those other people?” 

“I honestly had no idea where you were until Dutch contacted me. We followed every lead we could find, but we had three years behind us and jack-shit-nothing to show for it. I knew you were alive, but I didn’t know where you were being held. Ransom? You think we’ve kidnapped you?” Danny gasped. 

“Isn’t that what you’ve done?” Steve asked. “Have you contacted Libby yet?” 

Danny’s brow rose and his eyes hardened. “Who is Libby?”

“My wife.” 

Danny inhaled like he had been stabbed through the chest. Jealousy consumed him, stole his breath, and ripped the kindness from his eyes. He lifted Steve’s left hand, and yanked off the simple gold wedding band on his third finger. 

“She might as well have put it through your nose,” Williams muttered, slipping the ring into an evidence bag and putting it into the duffel. Steve didn’t fight over the ring’s removal. He shifted his grip on Milo, and edged slightly away from Danny’s rising anger. 

“Tell me about yourself,” Danny requested with a hard-edged grimace. 

“James Geist. Thirty-four. Ex-cop. I was injured in an accident four years ago.”

“Four years? That’s curious. Are you sure about the timeline?” 

“Not entirely,” Steve admitted as he bowed his head. 

“Who told you it’s been four years?” 

“Libby said,” Steve answered with childlike trust. 

“You can’t tell yourself how much time has passed? Were you in a coma?”

“I don’t know. I had head injuries.” 

“Yeah,” Danny nodded. He traced his eyes through Steve’s hair, wondering what mysteries might lie beneath that curly mop. “Well, um, _surprise_. You are not James Geist. Your name is Steven J. McGarrett. You’re forty, not thirty-four. Her name isn’t Libby, and she is not your loving wife. She abducted you, and she’s been fucking with your head ever since.” 

“I don’t believe you,” Steve frowned, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

“I bet you don’t,” Danny sympathized. “Give me a brief rundown of your physical condition.” 

“Why should I?”

“Because I’d like to be able to brief the doctor when we get to one that I trust.” 

“I have memory issues. I have coordination issues. Vertigo,” Steve continued carefully. “I get lost easily. I don’t go out much.”

“Everyone gets lost in New York City,” Danny snorted softly. "How long has it been since you’ve left the apartment?” 

“I don’t remember,” Steve admitted. 

“I can answer that for you. Eight months and two weeks ago, you were in a homeless shelter in Brooklyn when an off-duty cop noticed you. He filed an endangered adult report. Officer Derek Jordan. Wife. Two kids – one in college, one in high school. You struck him as curious from the rest of the lot because of your physical and mental condition, and your expensive clothes. That and the fact you weren’t wearing shoes, and it didn’t seem to bother you. You had been gone three days by that point. Handler had gone to the police for help, and she connected with Officer Jordan because of the report that he filed about you.”

A face flashed before Steve’s eyes – a large man with warm brown eyes and a gentle voice. Danny handed Steve one of the files. He opened it and found a picture of the same man, floating in the Hudson River. Steve recoiled, and dropped the file. It landed in the floorboard. Danny collected it. 

“Coming into contact with you proved fatal for Officer Jordan. But Dutch was alerted to your location by his report.”

“My name is James Geist.” 

“James Geist doesn’t exist. There are no public records of him before three years ago. I don’t know why Five-O wasn’t alerted at the same time that Dutch was alerted. I would wager it has something to do with the Navy sticking their hands into this, keeping your location and any information under wraps.”

“You’re wrong about Libby.”

“What do you remember from before the accident?” Danny was curious. 

“Nothing,” Steve replied too quickly, almost defensively. Danny’s eyes drew that shift in moods in, and catalogued it for later. 

“What kind of accident did you have?” 

“My car went off a bridge and into the water. I struck my head on the windshield. I hurt my spine. I couldn’t move. I almost drowned. I’m better now. But I’m not myself.” 

"You have no idea," Danny cackled to himself. Steve tilted his head, clenching his right hand angrily, like he wanted nothing more than to punch this little prick right in the face. “Where did you meet Libby?” Danny asked. 

Steve had to think about his answer. That spooky wall came down between anger and calm. 

“I didn’t. She….she was there at my side when I woke up in the hospital.” 

“Do you remember the name of the hospital?” 

“No. Is that relevant?”

“No. Tell me more. You woke up, and Libby was there?”

“Yes.” 

“She’s taken care of you since then, every step of the way?” 

“Yes.”

“How long before she convinced you to marry her?”

“I don’t understand.” 

“Oh. Or were you already married to her when you woke up?” 

“What?” 

“How long have you two been married?” 

“Ten years.” 

“Ten years? Really? Did she show you pictures?” Danny was furious again, clear to his core. His voice grated strongly. 

“Yes. Lots of pictures.” 

“She’s your ‘wife’, and she’s your doctor, and she’s been taking care of you every step of the way in your recovery. That didn’t strike you as a curious conflict of interest?” 

“Why should it?” 

“What’s her medical specialty?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Why would she be in charge of your care and recovery? Is she a physical therapist? A psychologist? A botanist? A neuro-surgeon? A cardiologist? What does Libby do?” 

“She’s a scientist and a medical doctor.” 

“What’s her field of study?” 

“Behavioral therapy.” 

“Ah…” Danny almost smiled, though not from pleasure. He was barely holding his voice and his temper down. Steve backed away, giving him a nervous stare. Danny retreated to his own side of the SUV for a few seconds. He was chewing on the responses Steve had given, and he didn’t like the taste of them. “Shit. I’m not thinking. I should be recording this. Either of you guys have a….oh,” Danny murmured when the agent in the passenger seat tossed him a hand-held recorder which was already running. “Thanks. So, Steve, you must have had questions when you woke up? How did you fill in the blanks?” Dany asked, resting the recorder on the seat between them. Steve inched away from the device. 

“I asked Libby.”

“How nice. She told you everything you want to know?” 

“Who would know me better than my wife?” 

“Why is there doubt in your face, Steve?” 

“There’s no doubt,” Steve denied feebly.

“Talk to me, babe,” Danny proceeded with guarded hope. “You had questions. Lots of questions. Libby didn’t like your questions?” he ventured. "You can tell me everything. She's not going to find out that you talked to me." 

“At first, she was happy to answer my questions, but as time goes on, the more questions I ask, the more upset she gets,” Steve admitted. 

“What kind of questions are you asking?” Danny prodded. 

“I see bits and pieces in my dreams that don’t make sense, things that she can’t explain. Colors, sounds, faces. It’s odd, that’s all,” he shrugged uncomfortably. 

“You see things Libby can’t explain to you?” 

“She gets upset when I ask too many questions. I stopped telling her everything I was seeing in my dreams.” 

Danny coughed up a painful, frightened sound, and then he murmured, “Your reticence may well have saved your life.” 

“Dutch said she met you in a dive bar in Oahu. You’re from Hawaii?” 

“I’m from New Jersey. I only work in Hawaii,” Danny replied. “Tell me about these bits and pieces. What faces are you seeing?” 

“Tell me about your bar in Oahu.” 

“It’s called ‘Ships Ahoy’. It’s not a dive bar. It’s a strategically-located surveillance point from which I can catalogue every fucking Naval ship that comes in and out of Pearl. I got that place cinched up tighter than a nun’s knees. We got our people in twenty-four locations, keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of you or Handler. Not that that’s done me a fucking bit of good, being as you’ve been in New York for who knows how long.” 

Steve blinked in surprise and clutched Milo tighter. Normally you would expect a cat to protest against such uncomfortable confines, but this illusionary feline was very understanding about the death grip. 

“What’s Hawaii like? I’ve never been there,” Steve countered, deflecting the question shyly.

Danny reached for Steve’s hand, and hugged it to his chest. Steve could feel Danny’s pulse through his tie and his shirt both. Strangely, their hearts were beating in sync. 

“You’re so cute. You really believe that?” Danny whispered, a smile creeping back into his features. “Babe, you were born in Hawaii.” 

“I was born in Connecticut,” Steve replied stubbornly, pulling his hand away with an angry jerk. “I’ve seen my birth certificate.” 

“Which any idiot with Photoshop could fabricate,” Danny retorted snidely. 

“Libby loves me,” Steve said, voice trembling. 

“Babe, I know this is all very confusing, and I am so trying not to hurt you. But you are nothing but a science experiment to that woman. That’s not to say that she doesn’t have feelings for you. You are without a doubt her favorite white mouse, the one and only one who has successfully navigated the maze and snagged the cheese. Eventually though, it all ends the same.”

“How is that?” 

Danny pushed another folder at Steve, opening it over his knees when McGarrett drew his hands away in dread. Four different faces went past as the photos fell off in sequence onto the floor – four men with similar features, dressed in Navy uniforms, back to back with what could only have been autopsy photos and reports. 

“That’s how it’s ended for everyone else. She runs through the course of her experiments, takes detailed notes about patient progress, and about where she can improve her product and procedure the next time around. Then she systematically eliminates the test subject, and any witnesses. Dutch believes Handler killed four other test specimens prior to kidnapping you. Likewise, her assistants have a bad habit of disappearing under mysterious circumstances and being found dead.” 

“Libby would never hurt me like that. She loves me,” Steve repeated angrily. Danny narrowed his eyes, and bit his mouth for a moment. 

“Steve, has this woman been…..is she…does she….?” Danny couldn’t finish the sentence. He gulped and shivered. The truth was on Steve’s face whether he realized it or not. “I’m gonna strangle her with my bare hands,” Danny frothed in a deadly whisper. 

“I’m finished listening to your lies,” Steve snarled defensively, and ironically, he had never looked more like himself than he did at that moment, hostile eyes, his nostrils flaring, his teeth bared in an angry hiss.

Danny tossed a full file into Steve’s lap. As he pushed the brown cover open, his own face stared back at him. A younger face, fuller face. Darker, shorter hair. A stranger in a Navy dress blues. 

“Your name is Steven J. McGarrett. You’re an ex-Navy SEAL and Intelligence Officer. You are the leader of the Major Crimes Task Force in Hawaii. At least you were until Dr. Handler set her sights on you as the perfect specimen to use for her experiments. With the implicit permission of the people who should have been the first to have your back! What she said she wanted was to help soldiers with PTSD issues gain better control of themselves and their emotions, to facilitate their reintegration back into normal, civilized society. She must have thought she hit the mother lode when she met you, buddy. The Navy big wigs asked you to Pearl-Hickam to discuss the 5-O team protecting her while she was in Hawaii. When you left the base, she had you followed. She had you kidnapped, and then she vanished. She’s done nothing since that day but manipulate and control you, through means of drugs and medical experimentation.” 

Steve stared down at his own face, and blinked in confusion and pain. He tossed it back to Danny with a foul grimace. 

“Don’t you want to read the file?” Danny worried.

“No. I don’t have to. I know you’re lying.” 

“Why is that?” 

“Navy SEAL?” Jim sneered, his brows bristling together in the middle of his forehead. 

“You were the best of the best.” 

“Detective Williams, you could not be more full of shit.” 

“How so?”

“I can’t swim! I haven’t been in water any deeper than my bathtub since the accident.” 

This revelation made Danny sit up straight and blink in fear. His terror melted away into boiling fury. He narrowed his eyes and ground his teeth. 

“Forget the electric cage. I’m going to put her in an electric chair,” Danny growled. 

“You’re lying to me, and you’re trying to confuse me. But it won’t work, because I know how much Libby loves me.” 

McGarrett retreated to his own side of the car and stayed there, staring angrily out the window. 

“SHE’S NOT EVEN A REAL DOCTOR!” Williams exclaimed angrily, throwing the file back into the duffel. “She stole her entire resume from another behavioral scientist, and then she slit the woman’s throat and dumped her in Manila Bay. Jesus H. Fucking Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head before dropping it into both hands. 

 


	5. The Flashback

When they reached Philadelphia, the first two nameless agents handed Danny and Steve (and Milo as well) off to the next duo of nameless agents. Presumably one of these guys was named “Price”, but who could tell which? It was a bit disconcerting not knowing who these guys were, and they weren’t exactly forthcoming with an overabundance of small talk, let alone their names. But Danny wasn’t going to balk at the offer of their help. By this point, Dutch’s scheme for getting Steve and the rest of the 5-O team out of New York must have been discovered. Chin had texted that he and Kono were in Chicago, headed for San Francisco. Joe White was already in Los Angeles, and departing for Honolulu in fifteen minutes, the bastard. 

The NYPD was going to be pissed off when they realized they’d been tricked, and the Navy was going to have a complete shit-fit. Unless Dutch had been able to convince her superiors at the CIA that she was doing the right thing, there could be any number of people from three different agencies out there hunting for the team. 

No matter. These new guys were as loyal to Dutch as the last pair had been. Even though they weren’t loquacious, they were dutiful. They drove on through the afternoon, crossing from Pennsylvania into the northern-most reaches of Maryland. It was shocking to descend into the rolling hills and sporadic horse farms. Danny felt more than a little remorse at not being able to stop and visit his parents in New Jersey while he was this close, but he was sure they would understand. 

Steve hadn’t murmured a single word since he had tossed the file back at Danny. He spent the drive to Philadelphia in stony silence. At the trade-off, he had climbed awkwardly into the next SUV, nestled into the farthest point he could get to without climbing out the other door. For some time, he watched every movement the driver was making, but slowly he drifted off to sleep. Danny had forgotten what a pain in the ass Steve could be when he got a good pout going. A very tiny part of Danny was supremely annoyed. But mostly, when he glanced across the wide backseat, it was all he could do not to scoot over, swing both arms around him, and cry with joy. 

Steve was rocking quietly side to side with the movements of the SUV. Danny watched his face, the lines which bunched up his forehead between his eyes. How in the hell was Danny ever going to breach the distance between them? He had failed to convince Steve of the truth, and he wasn’t going to get a second shot at that, he was sure it. Maybe Chin or Kono might have a better shot?

Wait. Was Steve dreaming? McGarrett’s right leg shifted forward, and his foot turned onto its side. His left foot slammed forward. Steve was pushing into the carpet with both feet now, shifting his weight backwards anxiously. 

Steve had his feet on the pedals of a vehicle, Danny was sure of it.

McGarrett’s arms fell free of each other, out to each side, like he was bracing himself for a fall. He must have been dreaming he was driving, probably of the last time he had been at the wheel. Danny’s mind was unwillingly taken back to the fateful day when Steve had disappeared. 

*** Flashback***

“We’ve got a sixteen-car pile-up, and nobody can find Steve,” Chin was complaining as Danny held his phone to his ear, and pocketed his house keys in exchange for his car keys. 

“He had a meeting early this morning with a bunch of Navy big shots. They want us to provide a safety escort for some dipshit scientist. Steve should be on his way back from the base by now.”

“I know where he went. I tried his phone. I also tried the contact numbers for everyone on the base at Pearl-Hickam. Steve isn’t there. When did you last hear from him?” Chin replied in anxious concern. It wasn’t like Chin to be frantic. 

“Before nine. He was bitching about tonight.” 

Danny stopped himself and laughed ruefully. He and Steve had been arguing about what to do this evening. Grace was going to a sleepover, and they would have the house to themselves. Danny wanted a quiet dinner – good food, good wine, and hopefully hours and hours of toe-curling sex. Steve had had other ideas, most of them revolving around the new James Bond movie and some sexually-deviant bedroom role playing later unless Danny missed his guess. 

“We need to find him,” Chin grumbled. 

“I’m on the way,” Danny reassured him. 

“This is a serious emergency,” Chin muttered. “We need Steve.” 

Danny remembered feeling annoyed in hearing that in case of serious emergencies, Chin preferred Steve over Danny. Which, of course, Danny knew already down deep inside, but man, it had bothered him to hear it spoken out loud. 

“I’m sure Steve will turn up. I’m headed to the scene. Why do they want 5-0 there anyhow? It’s just a driving accident, right?” Danny asked. 

“Preliminary reports indicate that two of the semis involved in the wrecks in the traffic backup were carrying black market materials. Kono is already on her way there. HPD as well.” 

“What sort of black market junk are we talking about?” Danny wondered as he peeled out of the driveway at Steve’s house, waving to the neighbor lady across the street. 

“Stolen electronics, chips, and motherboards. There’s computer parts all over the highway. The initial accident involved two or three vehicles going down a ravine off the highway. The HPD thinks that that commotion caused the subsequent pile-up. I’m coming up on the scene now,” Chin said. 

Danny was at the stoplight, and it was a good thing he was stationary. Because the terror in Chin’s voice caused him to leap out of his skin and hit the gas and brake at the same time. 

“Danny! GET OVER HERE! NOW!” Chin breathed. He was running, talking on the phone. “Oh My God, STEVE!!” 

Danny didn’t remember the rest of the drive, only that he was sure he broke the laws of physics, let alone the laws of safe driving. He literally split atoms getting the Camaro through backed-up traffic, leaving two long streaks of burnt rubber on the pavement when he reached the point where Chin’s car was on the side of the highway. He threw the Camaro alongside Chin’s mustang and leapt out. He spotted Chin going down the hill with two paramedics and a backboard in tow. There was blood on Chin’s hands, on the front of his shirt, down the thighs of his trousers. 

Heart in his throat, Danny followed Chin and the paramedics down the steep ravine. But when he got a good look at where they were headed, he stopped in his tracks. Steve’s blue Silverado was a mangled mess three-quarters of the way down the hill. Danny’s knees buckled. The CR-V which had landed on top of Silverado was in even worse shape. The CR-V’s doors and windows were smashed out. There was a lady and two children inside. He could see them struggling around.

Danny scrambled past Chin and the paramedics to get to the mangled Silverado first. It was wedged between two huge rocks. From the grass and debris on top of the cab, Danny surmised it might have rolled head over heels down the hill. Danny could hear himself sobbing. The windshield was shattered. There was blood everywhere in the cab. He threw himself down beside the vehicle, regardless of glass and blood, bracing himself to find the smashed body of his husband inside. 

The cab of the truck was empty. There was no sign of Steve, except for one big boot stuck in the remains of the windshield. That, and the blood that was everywhere. 

The paramedics were taking care of the mother and her kids. The cacophony created by the bawling, screaming children was not a sound that Danny would ever be able to erase from his brain. He and Chin scoured every inch of the Silverado that they could reach without dislodging the tenuous position of the CR-V. It was clear that Steve was not in his vehicle. 

‘They were shooting at each other, and swerving. The other truck crashed into us. I thought we were going to die,” the mother was sobbing as she was pulled out of the CR-V. 

‘Who was shooting at you?’ the paramedics asked her.

‘The other truck.’

‘That truck?’

‘No. No. The other truck. There was another truck. They were shooting at the guy in front of me!’ she wailed. ‘He lost control and went over the edge. The other truck hit me, and I lost control too,’ she sobbed. 

Danny sat down on the ground and took several deep breaths, quelling his own wails of anguish. He wasn’t aware at the time, but Chin had told him later that he had been babbling ‘Steve, no,’ over and over again. Chin grabbed his arm and attempted to haul him up, but Danny was useless at the moment. Chin kept going. Kelly was plainly annoyed, but Danny couldn’t help it. His legs shook, and his heart pounded. He couldn’t tear his eyes off the blood that was splashed all over the mangled cab of the Silverado. 

The boot was what terrified him the most. What was that boot doing stuck in the broken windshield? Had Steve kicked out the windshield? Were those bullet holes around the boot? Had Steve shot the windshield out? No, that couldn’t be right. There was a spider web of cracks where a very hard object (maybe a skull?) had struck the glass. The bullet holes were coming into the glass, not going out. Someone else had been firing shots into Steve’s Silverado. He spotted Steve’s P226 in the floorboard. They needed to check the sidearm and see if Steve had fired any shots back. Maybe he had been lucky enough to wound the bastards. But where was Steve now?! 

Chin’s shout of alarm brought Danny up and running to the edge of the rocks, down to the source of the scream for help. There were ocean waves licking at the very bottom of the ravine where the hill plunged into the sea. Steve’s other boot was bobbing around in the waves before it sank. The wild waves were the remains of a wake caused by a disappearing power boat. 

Chin screamed again, and pointed out towards a vessel which was racing away from the scene. There were three people inside the small power boat – one was steering, and the other two were holding down a struggling, kicking man. One bloody hand had a grip on the side of the boat, leaving a smear across the white fiberglass. Kono raced past Danny, hurrying down to Chin’s position. She was already on her phone. 

***End Flashback***

Danny jumped when Steve jerked awake. McGarrett’s eyes were alive with terror. He clawed at the seat between them. Danny scooped up Steve’s hand, rubbing gently. 

“It’s all right. Take a deep breath,” Williams soothed. “Tell me what you were dreaming.” 

“Stop…stop the car. Stop….” McGarrett pleaded. There were needles, and blurs of white, and strangers bending down in his face. His arms were restrained. His back ached. He couldn’t feel his legs. He couldn’t lift his head. He couldn’t draw in a breath that didn’t bring pain with it. There was nothing but darkness inside, and unimaginable pain, and a terrible loneliness which crept into even the deepest crevices of his mind. 

“Stop the fucking car!” Danny bellowed. Steve clawed at the door, fumbling for the door handle. He unhooked the seatbelt and flung his door open. 

The SUV came to a jagged stop on the side of the highway. Steve threw himself down onto the grassy median between the lanes. Danny scrambled across the seat and out. He slung an arm around Steve’s ribs as McGarrett dry-heaved into the grass. 

The two agents slid out of the vehicle, motioning cars to move the hell on past and quit your goddamn staring, people! Steve vomited until there wasn’t anything left inside him. He crumbled down onto his side in the grass, panting for breath. Danny hovered as close as a shadow. 

“Is he all right?” one of the agents asked, standing right next to them suddenly. 

“I’ll get the boss on the phone,” the other agent was saying. 

“Steve, can you get up?” Danny whispered, edging him onto his knees again. Steve staggered up slowly. He leaned against Danny in a daze. 

“We have to keep moving,” the first agent pleaded. “You have to get back in the vehicle, sir.” 

Steve acquiesced without a peep. They were all back in the vehicle now. Traffic had slowed. Strangers were staring at the entire exchange. Danny was not happy. Every social media monkey with a camera function on their phone was taking video, passing the SUV at a crawl.

“We need to get him to Fort Meade as soon as possible,” the primary agent was muttering as he climbed into the driver’s seat. 

“Price, what did Dutch say?” the second agent asked. 

The second agent gave a tentative glance into the backseat. Danny was buckled in, and Steve had his head pillowed in Danny’s lap. 

“She created a diversion all right,” Price muttered. 

“How?” 

“She crashed the NYPD’s press conference. Handler was supposed to be there, pleading for her husband’s safe return. Instead of that, she warned that if he was off his medications for too long, he might experience a psychotic break and kill whoever had taken him. He’s prone to violent outbursts if he isn’t kept medicated and calm. He should be considered armed and dangerous.” 

"Sounds like she kinda hoping someone shoots him."

"That'd be my guess," Price nodded. 

Both agents glanced back over their shoulders. Steve was shivering and shaking in a cold sweat, his eyes shut tight against the nausea sweeping over him. He was neither armed, nor dangerous, and he might have been unwell, but he certainly had not had a psychotic break. Besides, Danny knew, he’d be the first one to go if there were any problems. 

“What did Dutch do?” the second guy asked. 

“You know what poison cupcake she can be,” Price smiled. “She stood up at the press conference, playing that little girl face for all it’s worth, and started questioning Handler about James Geist’s particulars.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Dale, it made the national news. We’ll tune in and see it later.” 

“Oh, you bastard, don’t be like that. How did Handler react?” 

“Dutch asked for a physical description, and then she asked why there wasn’t any record of James Geist being a law enforcement officer, or a police cadet, or a college student, or a high school student. In fact, why there wasn’t any record of James Geist before three years ago? She sorta took Handler by surprise.” 

“So maybe the NYPD might be in our corner?” 

“Once they verify Dutch’s accusations, they might be, but the Navy Brass was standing behind Handler all the way, demanding proof from Dutch. Which we don’t want to spill yet, not in an unofficial capacity. Not without reading her her rights, least ways.”

“What did Dutch do?” Dale asked. 

“She held up the Commander’s picture, and asked Handler if she’d like to explain why Steve McGarrett was locked in her expensive Manhattan penthouse apartment. How she could even afford that apartment. It kinda all went to hell after that. Absolute chaos. Handler stormed out.”

“That kid is a genius,” Dale grinned. 

“No. She just knows that if you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, you can riddle them with bullshit.” 

“I’ve heard a much different version of that saying,” Danny interjected. 

“So have I,” Price remarked with a playful chuckle and eyebrow bounce. 

“The sooner we get to Fort Meade, the better,” the second agent said. 

“How far to Fort Meade from here?” Danny asked. 

“Not far. We’re going to leave the main road, because 95 is a bitch this time of day, going north or south either one. Don’t worry though. Just let me know if we need to pull over again.” 

“Thanks,” Danny replied earnestly. 

“Oh fuck,” Dale murmured. 

“Watch your mouth.” 

“Fudge.” 

Every eye turned out the front window of the SUV. Police lights were flaming towards them from all directions – front, back, and across the median. There were state troopers, local police, and even a couple of black sedans that were strikingly familiar. Danny felt Steve rising up on one arm. McGarrett panned a bleary eye across the scene, and crumbled back down. Danny patted his shoulder. Steve groaned and smacked the hand away. 

“Do we wait, or do we punch and take off?” Dale asked. 

“We wait,” Price replied, not without a hint of humor. 

“Just what we fucking need,” Dale remarked. “What? Has the bastard got a homing beacon up his ass or something?” 

Danny decided with a wry snort that that might not be out of the realm of possibilities.

“Let me have your badges, and let me do the talking,” Price said, opening his door carefully as a literal phalanx of officers surrounded the vehicle.


	6. The Drive to Fort Meade

Fort Meade, the fort itself, was located closer to 32 than 95. The NSA, which is what most people were speaking of when they mentioned Fort Meade, that was actually several miles up the road, near the BW Parkway and 32, but still close enough to 95 to get there without much hassle, unless you made the sorry mistake of heading that direction at 5:00 p.m. any given day of the week. 

The NSA itself was bisected by 32, with buildings on both sides of the road. It was a confusing jumble of ramps and crossovers, side roads with gates, with troopers and vehicles with their lights flashing positioned to watch the comings and goings of the people in the NSA buildings, and each and every car along the highway. It was eerie to be allowed to pass this close to an agency renowned for its secrecy. Of course, the barbed wire fences, large crash-proof rocks, and the signs which read ‘No Stopping At Any Time’ along the highway – they weren’t exactly welcoming. Hell, even the ground hogs were subject to search upon entry.

Danny spotted a sign for Canine Road, and thought that was an awfully strange name. He also noted that the majority of the vehicles exiting the ramps this time of day had larger than life window decals which read ‘DOD’ for Department of Defense. It amused him that a spy agency had such an overt sticker to designate employee vehicles. 

His attention turned back to Steve, because he wanted to share these humorous thoughts with him. But Steve was in no condition to enjoy the humor. McGarrett was sleeping fitfully again, shivering in spite of the extra jacket that Danny had pulled over him. Williams traced a hand through Steve’s long locks, and discovered unfamiliar scars nestled beneath. 

When they went past all the turn-offs and kept going, Danny glanced up again. 

“Where are we headed?” he murmured. 

“Tipton Airport,” Price replied. 

“I didn’t see any signs for that,” Danny said as he sat up straighter. His alarm bells were going off. 

“No, you didn’t,” Price answered knowingly. 

“I still wanna know how you talked them into giving us an escort,” Dale whispered as he waved to the troopers and police who lined their route. With one right turn, they were off the main highway, rumbling along a two lane side road which disappeared into the surrounding tree line. The phalanx of state troopers and local police from Harford County waited by the head of the small road, and allowed the CIA SUV to pass through them, onward. And there they were—a small hanger, a small runway, a group of similar SUVs, and a group of people waiting in the evening drizzle. 

“It was easy. I told them we had captured our suspect at the Greyhound Station in Baltimore (Bawlmer) and his psychiatrist was able to talk him down. We took him into custody. We needed to get him to Fort Meade for the flight back to New York.”

“Mmm hmm. Just that easy?” 

“I may have had to promise a few rounds at the Admiral Fell Inn.” 

“Did you?” 

“You’re buying,” Price smiled to Dale. 

One of the people waiting in the rain was Agent Vandervries. She was dressed in a large gray overcoat and a wide smile. It was very becoming. Dutch was practically dancing with excitement by the time the SUV pulled to a stop. Price and Dale got out. When they slammed their doors, Steve shuddered awake. He sat up, gasped for breath, and plunged out the opposite door on the gravel next to the tarmac. McGarrett was on his hands and knees vomiting when Danny climbed across the seat and out.

“You gonna live?” Danny asked. Steve gave him a sour grimace filled with hostile annoyance. He flipped Danny the bird. One evil blue eye was visible through his drizzle-drenched mop of hair. Williams couldn’t help the smile that sprang to his mouth. He hung both feet out the door. 

“The Commander appears to be experiencing the early signs of withdrawal symptoms. Considering the dizzying number of substances discovered in the preliminary toxicology screens done on his blood samples taken in New York, I would estimate that this is only the beginning of what will no doubt be an uncomfortable and unglamorous return trip to home.” 

“Oh God, Max, I never thought I’d be so happy to see you,” Danny laughed, climbing down from the vehicle and coming over to shake the medical examiner’s hand. He offered, anyways. Bergman blinked with reptilian disdain at the extended hand, and Danny withdrew the limb at once. 

“Good Evening, Detective Williams.” 

“Likewise, I’m sure. How the hell did you get here so fast? And how did you know where to be?” Danny wondered. Max tore his eyes off of Steve for a second, and answered Danny's question in his usual, cool tone.

“Transporter?” the ME offered with a faint glimmer of amusement. 

“Very funny,” Danny rumbled. 

“Full disclosure? Hoping that my services might prove useful, I left Honolulu on the next flight after your team departed. I was in Los Angeles when Governor Denning contacted me and asked me to run diagnostics on the prints and scans that you sent him, to determine if the man you had located was indeed Commander McGarrett. When I explained that I could not perform the requested diagnostics, as I was not in my lab but in Los Angeles, and that I would need to locate proper medical facilities before I could comply with his request, the Governor said that I should fly post haste to the East Coast, specifically to New York City. I arrived at LaGuardia only to learn that you and the rest of the team had managed to give the authorities the ‘slip’, with the aid of the charming, clever, and yet completely professional Agent Candace Vandervries.” 

Danny stared around the SUV to where Dutch was having an animated discussion with Price and Dale, and the remainder of her own team of agents. Was it his imagination, or was she the youngest person there? Guess when you crash the plans of an international criminal conglomerate, and save NORAD from accidentally destroying Russia, the bosses are bound to think you’re special. The other agents were delivering their reports to her. But it wasn’t like Dutch didn’t know her real place. She was asking questions, and she was taking copious notes. 

In the meantime, Max knelt down on the ground, and put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. McGarrett flinched away from the touch, rocking up his knees, and then falling onto his backside. He crab-crawled away from Max, eyes wide. 

“Commander, I apologize for intruding on your personal space, but time is of the essence. We have to move out, and quickly,” Max explained. 

"Take off your jacket," Danny ordered. Max glanced down at his lab coat. It glowed white like a beacon. Steve backed further away, and Max ripped out of the lab coat like it was on fire. He fumbled it to Danny, who shoved it into the SUV and slammed the door. 

"All gone," Danny promised. Steve was breathing hard, staring at Max again. Danny reached down, hooked an arm under Steve’s closest arm, and hauled him directly upright. McGarrett weaved like he was drunk. Max moved to Steve’s other side, supporting him as well as he could in spite of their height difference. It wasn’t like Danny was much taller than Max was. 

“How bad is this going to get?” Danny wondered as Steve lulled against his side. 

“Vomiting is only the beginning. Muscle aches, sweating, constant nausea, dehydration, diarrhea, delirium, hallucinations—a myriad of side effects awaits,” Max reported. 

“Can we give him something that will help?” 

“While I do sympathize with what the Commander is experiencing, I would recommend against the administration of any foreign substance until we have determined what exactly Dr. Handler has been pumping into his system. We should render him unconscious for the trip, and monitor his vitals until we arrive in Honolulu,” Max replied. 

“Milo?” Steve whispered. 

Max’s ears prickled, and he looked concerned. 

“He’s right here,” Danny promised, opening his jacket, showing Steve the interior, and hugging an arm against his side as if he were holding someone close to his chest. Steve nodded, and his eyes closed as he leaned wearily against Danny once more. 

“Milo?” Max whispered. He was a tuft of dark hair, shiny spectacles, and a pair of raised eyebrows on the opposite end of Steve’s long neck and broad shoulders. 

“I’ll explain later,” Danny promised as they propped Steve up a few feet from Dutch, and waited. 

“You have your assignments. Report back to me when you reach your destinations. Make it look good,” Dutch murmured. The group of dark-suited agents climbed into the SUVs and disappeared in different directions. Soon there were only two SUVs remaining. 

“What’s the plan from here?” Danny asked Dutch. He tried to stare into the hanger, but he couldn’t see anything in the falling light and persistent drizzle. 

“Subterfuge, gentlemen. That’s the plan,” Dutch answered. 

“Are we flying out tonight?” Danny wondered. 

“You’ll be leaving in the morning. I managed to secure a spot on a plane, but it wasn’t easy. We’ve got long drives ahead of us.”

“Where are we driving?” Danny groaned. 

“You and I are headed to DC. Doctor Bergman and Commander McGarrett are headed to Virginia.” 

“Aw, fuck,” Danny groaned. 

“Once they are in Virginia, Doctor Bergman will escort Commander McGarrett to an undisclosed location, where he will be safe for the night.” 

“Fuck,” Danny groaned again. 

“I need you to answer a few questions for me. It’s imperative that we have our facts straight, so we can counter any and every obstacle that Dr. Handler might put in our path.” 

“But…” Danny whined. 

“Detective, you’re going to have to trust me.” 

“Do not worry, Detective Williams. The Commander will be in good hands,” Max promised. 

“Yes, but….” Danny complained. 

Dutch handed Max a set of car keys. 

“I am much better equipped to handle the medical emergency that he is currently experiencing,” Max offered in a consoling tone. 

“Come on, Detective Williams. I’d like to get moving before the Parkway is at a complete standstill,” Dutch pressed. 

“I hate Washington,” Danny moaned. He was reluctant to let go of Steve’s side. McGarrett was surprised by the hug that Danny circled around his shoulders. “You do what Max says. You understand me?” 

“Milo?” 

“Why don’t I hang onto him for you?” Danny asked, hugging his empty jacket closer to his side. 

“But…” Steve protested. 

“I’ll see you in the morning. I hope,” Danny whispered. He pulled reluctantly away, and followed Dutch to her vehicle. Max guided Steve into the other SUV, and then climbed into the driver’s seat. Danny watched their tail lights as they disappeared into the falling night. 

“I know it’s hard to let go, even for a little while, but the Commander is in good hands, Detective Williams,” Dutch offered gently. 

“I can’t lose him again.” 

“You won’t. He’ll be staying with a friend of mine, within spitting distance of the Marine Corps base at Quantico.” 

“We got the CIA, the NYPD, and the Navy barking at our heels, and you’re going to drag the Marines into this?” Danny laughed. 

“Not the Marines. The FBI, actually.” 

“What?” 

“We can trust Dr. Reid." 

"The FBI. I forgot they share Quantico with the Marines,” Danny sighed. 

“Although I do know a couple of ex-Marines who might lend us a hand, if that would make you feel better,” Dutch offered playfully as she put the SUV in gear. 

“Where are we headed?” Danny asked tiredly. 

“George H.W. Bush Center for Intelligence.”

“You’re joking, right?” 

“Take a nap if you want. It’s going to be a while. We’ve gotta get into DC, through the Mall, down to the GW Parkway, and through evening traffic.”

“I don’t suppose you got any food on you?” Danny wondered. 

Dutch lifted the lid off the seat divider console, and handed him a package of peanut butter crackers with all the sweetness of a schoolgirl sharing her lunch.

“Thanks. Thanks for everything,” Danny whispered. 

“You’re welcome,” Dutch replied. 

Danny battled with the cellophane, and nibbled on the treats, dreadful though welcome. 

“Did you have your conversation with the Commander?” Dutch asked. 

“Aw, fuck,” Danny mumbled, catching crumbs in his hand. “I forgot my duffel in Price’s car.” 

“No problem. Dr. Bergman has that vehicle. He will keep the duffel for you. Don’t avoid the question. How did the conversation go?” 

“About as well as you might imagine. Steve doesn’t believe a word I’ve said. He thinks we kidnapped him from his loving wife, and that we’re holding him for ransom.” 

“Stockholm Syndrome?” Dutch proposed. 

“This is more like All of Sweden Syndrome,” Danny retorted. 

“Oh,” Dutch whispered. “What about everything else you needed to discuss?” 

“He shut me out. I didn’t get that far,” Danny mumbled. 

“You haven’t seen your husband in over three years, and that’s not the first thing you tell him?” Dutch shook her head in dismay as they raced along the ramps which wound around in a cloverleaf and deposited them into the endless line of blinking lights which was the BW Parkway at 5:35 p.m. on a rainy Sunday evening. 

“Handler has filled his head so full of lies that he doesn’t know what the truth is anymore,” Danny lamented. Dutch’s phone beeped. She popped it up out of her pocket like a slice of bread from a toaster. 

“Agent Vandervries?” 

A commanding voice was speaking with an exaggerated Southern accent on the other end of the line. Dutch smiled at the sound of his voice. Danny knew immediately that he was one of her familiars. 

“Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Oh, General, I’d be very grateful to you,” Dutch was saying. “We’ll touch down in Colorado Springs by noon your time. Can I bring you anything from DC? Yeah. I know the place. Sure thing, General Andrews. Thank you again. Looking forward to it!” 

Dutch put away her phone and smiled coyly at Danny. 

“We gotta make a stop in town. I gotta see a man about an unpronounceable brand of single malt whiskey.” 

“Bribery?” 

“I prefer to think of them as tokens of esteem between colleagues.”


	7. The Good Doctor

“I still can’t believe he carded me,” Dutch was muttering as she and Danny climbed out of the SUV and onto the tarmac of yet another small airport in the middle of a military base. This one was Turner Field at the Marine Corps Base at Quantico, Virginia. Dutch clutched an oblong box wrapped in brown paper close to her side. 

“I got news for you, Dutch. You’re going to get carded until you’re fifty. You’ve got one of those faces,” Danny said as he blinked into the bright morning sunshine. Hateful, it was, truly hateful. 

Adding together the four hours of questioning with Dutch and her non-descript, shadowy boss, and another hour’s drive to get to a safe house to spend the night, and then three hours of tossing and turning and texting Max to check on Steve, Danny had managed to grab about forty-five minutes of good sleep last night, all told. It showed on his face. He was going to be asleep the next time he sat down. He was sure of it. 

“I got carded until well into my thirties,” he added quietly. 

“Because you’re short.”

“Heeeeey…” Danny complained. 

“Like this is news?” Dutch taunted sweetly as she lowered her chin and stared down at him. 

“I didn’t get carded because I’m short. It’s because I got one of those baby faces too,” Danny laughed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “Gotta say, it was a nice touch, flashing that clerk your CIA badge instead of your driver’s license though.” 

“Force of habit. It’s against the rules. You’re not supposed to tell people when you work for the CIA. But how many times a day do we get asked for ID, and you’re showing your badge before you think you need to show your badge? I didn’t realize what I had done until the lady behind me gasped like she’d been shot, and dropped her economy-sized bottle of Bacardi Rum on the floor. It’s all over my pant legs and my coat. I smell like I spent the night in Jack Sparrow’s bed.”

“That’d be Captain Jack Sparrow,” Danny snorted playfully. Dutch chuckled in reply in spite of herself, but she straightened up as an ancient, beige and white, VW van came trundling up the road towards their position. Danny gave Dutch a questioning glance. She smiled reassuringly in reply.

A lanky young man popped out, dressed more like a college art history professor, or maybe a linguists’ professor, Danny mused. No more than thirty, well, maybe over thirty, maybe, if that, he was dressed in button-down shirt, tweed pants, loafers, and a brown sweater, over which was thrown a russet-brown coat which matched his auburn-brown hair to the exact shade. The closer he got to Dutch, the more the younger man’s smile warmed. A blond man with a bird-like gaze turned the VW van around, and it rumbled back away from the tarmac and back onto the road.

“This is highly irregular, Agent Vandervries, and not something we can make a habit of doing.”

The young man spoke before he was close enough to be heard properly over the whining hum of the waiting Lear Jet. He had to shout to be heard over the plane. Dutch nodded solemnly to him, and offered a tiny fist bump rather than a handshake. 

“Dr. Reid, I promise I won’t make this a habit. No cane? You’re a million percent better every time I see you.” 

“Being back on the job helps,” Reid smiled. 

“I heard about the Gorsuch case. Nice work. Very nice. Nothing like a good mystery to stir the blood!” Dutch agreed. “Dr. Spencer Reid, this is Detective Danny Williams, Five-O Major Crimes Task Force.” 

“Detective Williams,” Dr. Reid nodded. 

“Dr. Reid, you’re not catching me at my best,” Danny mumbled. He wanted to apologize for his rumpled clothes and unshaven face, for his half-cocked eyes and wild hair. Danny took a stab at poking his hair down, and rubbed a hand over his stubble. Dr. Reid’s eyes took in his condition, and his young face softened with sympathy. He could relate, no doubt, to what Danny was going through. 

“What’s this?” Dutch asked as Dr. Reid handed her a file. 

“My preliminary analysis of Commander McGarrett’s mental and physical condition.” 

“Dr. Reid? I did not mean for you psychoanalyze the Commander.”

“But why not? It was the perfect opportunity.” 

“Dr. Reid, I kinda hoped you and Max would get him to watch a little Star Trek and relax,” Dutch chided gently. 

“But, indeed, that is precisely what we did,” Reid replied happily. 

“How is he?” Dutch asked, handing the file to Danny. 

“I recommend that you proceed with caution.” 

“Where’s Steve?” Danny worried. 

“The Commander is already onboard, as is Doctor Bergman,” Reid replied crisply. “You should be on your way if we expect to be in Colorado Springs by noon central.” 

Dutch’s phone was ringing. They stood politely aside and let her answer. Danny peered into Reid’s file as the young doctor’s amber eyes studied him with keen interest. 

“ ‘Proceed with caution’?” Danny questioned as words like ‘traumatic stress disorder’ and ‘hallucinations’ caught his eyes.

“Where’s Milo?” Reid asked, eyes sparkling with interest.

“Oh! He told you about Milo, did he?” 

“The Commander was concerned whether or not you would be able to successfully contain his high-spirited feline.” 

“The cat doesn’t exist, Dr. Reid.”

“On the contrary, Detective Williams. That cat is the most real thing in the Commander’s life.” 

“In what way?” Danny frosted over with fear.

“I cannot tell you that without studying him in greater detail, preferably while he interacts with Milo. But I am convinced Milo will be able to tell you more about Commander McGarrett’s condition than you might hope.” 

Danny shoved the file back at Reid. 

“Milo doesn’t exist, Dr. Reid. Steve is fucking lolo, because that bitch has been sticking diodes in his brain, and lighting him up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve.” 

Dr. Reid blinked helplessly at Danny. 

“I do not mean to offend, Detective Williams.” 

Danny flattened his hair with one hand, and sighed heavily. 

“I’m sorry. I know you mean well. Thank you for taking care of Steve, giving him a safe place to sleep last night. If you’re ever in Hawaii, stop by, and we’ll hook you up right.” 

“Hawaii?” Reid beamed. “I look forward to it!” 

“Detective Williams, sorry to kiss and run, but please deliver this to General Andrews for me, and give him my regrets. Tell him I’m going to have to catch up with him another time,” Dutch was saying as she put away her phone with a grumble. “Chin and Kono have run into trouble with the Navy in San Francisco. I’ll be going there instead of Colorado Springs.” 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Danny worried as he accepted the box. 

“No. Just get in and out of Colorado as fast as you can. I'll meet you in Honolulu. The Navy is closing just about every route I had in mind to get you back to home. I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta run. Stay close to your phone,” Dutch called as she hurried back to the SUV. 

“No luggage?” Reid asked.

“Nothing but me and the booze,” Danny answered. 

“The Commander has already been sedated for the flight,” Reid said, slowly climbing the stairs up into the jet, herding Danny along in front of himself. “I have masked your presence on the flight by logging you and your companions as consultants for a case in Denver. I will disembark in Denver, and leave the plane to you from there.” 

“I appreciate it. Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of bringing along my own security detail.” 

Danny was only half-listening to the talkative Dr. Reid. The moment he climbed into the plane and found Steve laid-out asleep on the rear section of seats, he stood in place, and cared about nothing else. His hand floated through Steve’s hair. McGarrett made a groggy noise, and one stormy blue eye lifted open. Danny put his jacket around Steve’s shoulders, and whispered in his ear. 

“Milo.” 

Steve hummed contentedly, and went right back under. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to coordinate with home,” Dr. Reid said. He scooted gingerly past Danny and up to the front seats on the plane. 

There were two other people seated in the rear of the plane—a blonde woman in her thirties with steely gray eyes, and a buff, handsome young man in his early twenties, with military bearing and a nervous smile. They nodded politely to Danny as he panned his sleepy eyes over them. 

“Oh my god. It’s really him. Commander Steve McGarrett,” the young man was whispering to the woman while clutching the armrest between them. 

“Take it easy, Ensign James.” 

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“What is your malfunction?” 

“You wouldn’t understand, Captain Spaulding.” 

“What wouldn’t I understand?” 

“Commander McGarrett. _He is legend_.” 

“My God, you sound like you’re in love,” Spaulding snorted softly, well aware Danny was listening to their every word. Hellfire burned in the tired blue eyes that surveyed the two strangers. The ensign flushed brightly. 

“I spent a year in physical combat training under him, hanging on his every word.”

“How often did you volunteer to get thrown to the mat?” Spaulding teased. The ensign squeaked and rearranged his features in pleasure and dismay both. 

“I wasn’t the only one. Half the cadets were in love with McGarrett, male and female,” James whispered to the amused Captain Spaulding. 

“Cool your jets, Mister. You can get his autograph later. We’re headed to Honolulu with the Five-O team.” 

“Who will have Dr. Reid’s back while we’re away?” 

“Honeybunch will be in Denver before we are.” 

“I haven’t been to Honolulu in ages,” Ensign James shivered happily. 

“Promise me you aren’t going to fanboy all over the Commander. I don’t think he’s in any mood.” 

“Yes, Captain.” 

Max was seated opposite where Steve was sleeping. Danny sank into the chair next to Bergman, and closed his eyes. He was instantly asleep. The only time he stirred was when he heard the harsh, nasal screeching coming out of the computer console near the other end of the plane. 

“Office of the Universal Font of Amazing, Genius Wisdom! What can I do for you mere mortals today?” the unknown woman shrieked. 

“Oh God. Kill me now,” Danny mumbled, twitching awake. 

“If I may suggest,” Max murmured, inserting bright purple earplugs into Danny’s ears for him. Danny sighed, let Max take the box from him, and went promptly back to sleep.


	8. The Tarmac at Colorado Springs

Colorado Springs was a mere blip on Danny’s radar. Max and Danny disembarked first in order to deliver Dutch’s whiskey to the sawed-off, uniformed man who waited on the tarmac at the bottom of the plane’s stairs. His broad chest was a veritable solid plate of medals and combat ribbons. 

“General Andrews?” Max questioned.

“Welcome to Colorado Springs, gentlemen.”

“Brook-laddick?” Danny offered hesitantly. 

“Bruichladdich,” the general corrected, accepting the box like Danny was handing him a newborn infant. He cradled it against his chest and smiled proudly. The general had gargled a couple choking sounds when pronouncing the word, and then continued on with a lazy drawl. “I was hoping Dutch could make it. I have not had the chance to thank her properly for the substantial risks she took the last time we met. That little girl saved my bacon in no uncertain terms. I wanted to shake the little lady’s hand, and offer my humble apologies for the way I doubted her. Set her up with a couple slabs of my favorite ribs. It’ll have to wait for next time.” 

“Dutch sends her regrets,” Danny replied. 

“Happily accepted,” the general smiled as he patted the brown wrapped box. 

Danny nodded to the general while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Captain Spaulding greeted General Andrews with a quick snap of a salute, which made the general chuckle.

“Amy Spaulding? Are those captain’s bars decorating your shoulders?” 

“Yes, sir, they are.” 

“You’ve done very well for yourself. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen when you decided to join General Scott’s team, but it always does me proud to see one of my little chickens prosper in the big, wide world.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“At ease, Captain. Let’s step over here a bit, and discuss our situation, shall we?” 

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s that all about?” Danny asked Ensign James, who was helping prop Steve up. McGarrett was studying their surroundings with puzzled eyes. 

“Spaulding used to be Air Force. She spent a couple years in Colorado Springs,” James explained. 

“Used to be Air Force? What is she now?” Danny asked. 

“Not Air Force,” James grinned. 

“Why is she in uniform if Captain Spaulding is no longer in the military?” Dr. Bergman started to ask. Danny shook his head no.

“I get the feeling it’s one of those things we are not meant to know.” 

“Are you former Air Force as well?” Max asked James. 

“No. I’m former Navy.” 

“What position do you currently hold?” Bergman asked as Danny bristled angrily. 

“Not Navy.”

“What do you two do, and what does that have to do with Dr. Reid?” 

“We work personal security detail for Dr. Reid.” 

“What’s so special about the doctor that he requires a personal security detail?” Danny asked. 

“I may be able to shed light on that for you, at a later time,” Max replied to Danny’s question when Ensign James just smiled. 

Captain Spaulding and General Andrews concluded their private pow-wow. He set down his brown paper-wrapped box, slapped her hard on the shoulder, and shook her hand emphatically. 

“Anything to piss off the Goat Boys from Annapolis,” Andrews grinned. “You may have your pick of the litter, Captain Spaulding.” 

“Thank you, sir. I’ll see she gets back in one piece.” 

The captain returned to where Danny and Ensign James were propping the lethargic McGarrett up. Max was carrying a black duffel and a second overnight bag. 

“Is it a go, Captain?” James asked. 

“Is what a go?” Danny asked nervously. 

“Dr. Reid thought it was only prudent that the ensign and I see you safely to Honolulu,” Spaulding explained. “The general is going to lend us a plane. It’ll be fueled and ready in twenty minutes.”

“And the pilot?” Max asked. 

“Now would be a good time to make any necessary pit stops,” Spaulding replied as she pointed towards a building between the two nearest hangers. “Get a drink. Have a bite to eat if you’re hungry. I’ll join you in ten.” 

Spaulding strode off with a wide smile on her face as she surveyed the airplanes and helicopters in their vicinity. A grounds crew of airmen followed in her wake like small ducklings after their mother. Danny and Max looked to Ensign James for an explanation. 

“She’s the pilot, dipshits,” James laughed, shifting his grip on McGarrett’s slouching frame. 

“She’s gonna fly us to Honolulu? Without the Navy finding out?” Danny laughed. 

“Difficult, but not impossible,” Max hoped. 

“Sure. Right. What’s going to be difficult about that? We’ll be dead before we reach Hawaiian air space. Pearl-Hickam is going to have every airstrip on the islands under tight security,” Williams complained. “You aren’t going to be able to land a mosquito without them knowing about it.”

“Have a little faith,” Ensign James suggested gently. 

“Do I know you?” Steve rumbled deeply as he stared at the ensign. James’s eyes went wide, and he blushed. 

“We have met, yes.”

“I thought so,” McGarrett narrowed his eyes at the young man, and then the commander went back to studying their surroundings. 

“Let’s get him inside until the Captain picks us a ride,” Danny commented. Ensign James did not miss the sullen stare Williams was giving him.


	9. The Plane to Los Angeles

They were in the air in under thirty-five minutes. It was close to 1 p.m. when they left Colorado Springs. Danny didn’t know the precise make and model of the plane that Captain Spaulding had chosen, only that it was over-large for his tastes. There was seating for ten, and plenty of room left for cargo. The belly was full of crates and boxes wrapped and bolted down for transport. 

“But why?” the ensign was asking from the co-pilot’s seat.

“Why what, kiddo?” 

“Why, when you had your choice of any plane on the airstrip, why would you pick a lumbering beast like this? It’s like you could have had the Ferrari, but you chose the minivan. What is the matter with you? Where is your sense of adventure?” 

“We are trying to keep this low key, Ensign.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“We want to get to Honolulu without drawing attention to ourselves. This plane makes weekly trips to Pearl-Hickam. We left at her regularly-scheduled departure time. We are carrying her usual cargo. We are going to refuel at Los Angeles, just like she does every week. We will be in Honolulu in just under eleven hours, barring any unforetold incidents. We will land. Our guests will disembark in the darkness. We will deliver the cargo to the base. Nobody will notice anything out of the ordinary.” 

“Yeah, but it’s so bulky.”

“It’s a cargo plane, Ensign. They gotta be able to carry cargo.” 

“But you could have had a sleek, beautiful jet, and we could have been there in eight hours at Mach 7.” 

“Are you high? The only planes that go that fast are hypersonic spy planes.” 

“I’m a sailor. I know ships, not planes.” 

“Obviously. We needed a plane with room for passengers, and we needed a registered flight plan which would not draw suspicion.” 

“All right. I get it,” the ensign sighed, glancing back over his shoulder. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll get your legendary Lieutenant Commander to Honolulu in one piece,” Spaulding soothed when she saw the direction the ensign was staring.

“He’s starting to come around. Should we put him back under?” 

“I’m a pilot, not a doctor. Let’s let Bergman decide that.” 

“Agent Hotchner and I watched that press conference while you were watching Star Trek with those guys. That lady? She said if he is off his medications for too long, he’s prone to violent outbursts. He should be considered armed and dangerous.” 

“You frisked him as you helped him on the plane.” 

“Yeah.”

“Did he have any weapons?” 

“He wasn’t even wearing underwear.” 

“So there’s nothing to worry about,” Spaulding smiled. 

“You don’t understand, Captain. He’s a Navy SEAL. He is never unarmed.” 

Spaulding shrugged. “Hopefully you learned something during that physical combat training, and you didn’t waste all your time staring at his ass.” 

“It’s going to be up to me to take him down if he gets violent?” James sputtered. 

“I’m the pilot. You’re the heavy.” 

“He’s a beast, Captain. An absolute beast. He lost his SEAL cherry on ops missions so black, even he didn’t know what he was doing there. Somalia. Afghanistan. Algiers. Egypt. We aren’t even going to talk about what went down in Barcelona!”

“How do you know what missions he’s been on?” Spaulding asked. 

“I might have hit up some old contacts for the low-down on him.”

“You shouldn’t have contacted people asking questions about him.” 

“It was a long flight, and I’ve been bored. Why not ask a few people in the know?” 

“Because what’s the first question they’re going to ask?” 

“I dunno.” 

“Why, ensign, why?” 

“Are you asking me?” 

Spaulding groaned and planted her hand over the young man’s face. 

“Don’t worry, Captain. These are guys I can trust.”

“You better fucking hope so,” she groaned again. 

Max stopped listening to Spaulding and James, and turned his attention back to Danny and Steve. McGarrett’s dangerous eyes were taking in his surroundings. He had his arms folded over his chest. He was slouched in his chair, legs propped out, one foot curled under. He had kicked off the shoes he had borrowed from Dr. Reid’s companion. Luckily Aaron Hotchner and Steve McGarrett were nearly the same height and build. 

Steve breathed slowly and evenly, grimacing as if in pain. He rolled his neck, and shifted his back, stretching his arms and legs before scooting side to side, and rearranging his position. Max thought he detected stiffness and general fatigue. McGarrett’s withdrawal symptoms were lessening, though they were not entirely absent. When Captain Spaulding dodged a particularly tough batch of turbulence, McGarrett’s eyes closed, and nausea rode across his features. 

“Are you all right, Commander?” Max asked. 

Steve leaned across Danny to stare at Max as if irritated by the question. McGarrett nodded slowly, and sat back again. Danny jolted awake with a start, hand immediately searching to his left where Steve was seated. Williams slid his fingers over Steve’s leg, tightening around and under his knee. McGarrett stared at that hand, and peeled it off his knee, and dropped it unceremoniously back into Danny’s own lap. 

Porcelain blue eyes stared around. Danny’s phone was vibrating in his pocket. He slipped it out, and read the messages that were popping up on screen. 

“Fuck,” Danny whispered. 

“Trouble?” Max asked. 

“Fuck,” Danny repeated. 

“Detective?” Max persisted.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck….” Danny snarled. He made as if to hurl his phone across the plane. It left his fingers. Steve’s arm shot out, almost taking off the side of Danny’s face. Steve’s arm recoiled. Danny’s phone was in his grip. 

“It isn’t prudent, destroying your only means of communication with base camp, soldier,” Steve murmured, his bass voice no more than an unpleasant rumble, like a roll of thunder before a storm. Danny held out his hand nervously. Steve gave him back the phone. “Stow your radio for the time being. You don’t want to give away our location to the enemy.” 

“No…no, sir. Don’t want to give away our location,” Danny stammered in agreement. Williams turned slowly to his other side and gave Max a wide-eyed stare, clenching his mouth into a straight line of doom. Max leaned out past Danny, and gave McGarrett a quick once-over. 

Steve unbuckled his seatbelt restraint and prowled down the aisle towards the cockpit. Danny’s eyes bulged. He fumbled with his own seatbelt, and followed in Steve’s wake as McGarrett loomed impressively over Ensign James. The young man couldn't decide if he was flattered or frightened. Maybe he was a little of both. 

“Ensign, why don’t you take a seat in the back, and give me a chance to go over our op with the pilot?” McGarrett rumbled. 

Ensign James checked out Captain Spaulding’s opinion of this suggestion in the flash of an eye. She winked at James, and so he obeyed, standing up slowly, skirting past Steve, and allowing McGarrett to take the co-pilot’s seat. 

“Captain?” Steve murmured.

“Commander,” Spaulding replied amiably. 

“Perhaps you’d like to fill me in.”

“I’d be happy to, Commander.” 

“Is he okay?” Ensign James whispered nervously to Danny, who was hovering between the two pilot seats like a helicopter parent over a favorite child. 

“Soldier, is there something you need?” Steve asked Danny, stormy eyes focusing on him.

“I….I…” 

“Take a seat! Now! That’s an order!” McGarrett bellowed. 

Danny and Ensign James raced back to the seats, but instead of tucking into the row where they had been, Danny tossed himself down in the seat closest to the cockpit. He did not take his eyes off of Steve, not for a second. 

“Do you have a weapon?” Williams whispered to Ensign James. 

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“In my go-bag. In the cargo hold.” 

Williams closed his eyes, and whimpered softly. Captain Spaulding must have heard the sound. She gave a slow smile over one shoulder, and made a ‘simmer down’ gesture with her free hand. 

“Hand me the flight log, Commander, would you please? I can show you our plan,” Spaulding said, raising her hand and pointing to the other side of the cockpit beyond her reach. McGarrett collected the metal-clad spiral notebook, and gave it to her. Spaulding spread the book open on one of Steve’s big thighs, one eye on the instruments and the front screen, and the other eye on the laminated pages between the metal covers.

“Pearl-Hickam? Good. I’m familiar with our destination,” Steve said. 

“It’s a routine cargo transport. Nothing special. Not the glamorous and exotic destinations you must be used to, I’m afraid.” 

“Why would the Navy send an Air Force Captain and a SEAL team on a routine cargo transport?” Steve rumbled, flipping through the pages, looking skeptical and irritated.

"SEAL team?" James whispered. 

"Flashback?" Danny whispered. "Hallucination? Hell. I dunno." 

“I know you were putting ‘em back pretty fast, but how much did you have to drink last night, Commander?” Captain Spaulding joked. McGarrett frowned, tilted his head, and ran a set of fingers through his hair. 

“Too much, Captain. I apologize, sir. I can’t think straight today.” 

“Your first shore leave in quite some time, I guess?” 

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. 

“You don’t remember the poker game?” 

“Poker game?” 

“Needless to say, we lost a bet. A royal flush beats a full house, even in New Jersey, am I right, Williams?” Spaulding called back to Danny. Steve’s eyes bored in Danny as McGarrett glanced back over his shoulder. 

“It’s your fault we’re delivering cargo instead of saving lives and making the world safe for Democracy? I might have known. And where the fuck is your uniform, Williams?” McGarrett snarled. Danny’s jaw slid open, and he gawped like a stunned guppy. 

“He lost that too,” Spaulding added contemptuously.

Steve’s eyes dilated with fury. He inhaled, and he bared his fangs at Danny. 

“When we get to Pearl, soldier, you and I are going to have a very, very long talk about your gambling habits,” McGarrett snarled between clenched teeth. 

“But…but, I….” Danny sputtered. 

“Unbelievable!” Steve snapped before turning back around. 

“Well, that’s the long and short of it, Commander. Nothing to do now until we stop to refuel at Los Angeles. You can get some more shut-eye if you like,” Spaulding suggested with a bored voice and a believable yawn. 

“Thanks, Captain. Good idea. I want to be fresh in case we run into any unfriendlies.” 

“No chance of that, Commander,” Spaulding soothed. Steve could not have looked more disappointed. He set the flight plan back up on the console to the far right, and maneuvered out of the co-pilot’s seat. 

“Call me if you need me, sir.” 

“Thank you, Commander. I will.” 

Ensign James shimmied past McGarrett once more, and frantically buckled himself back into the co-pilot’s seat. Spaulding shook her head no, and with one arched brow, directed him to return to the passenger compartment. His job for the duration of the flight was to sit right next to McGarrett. 

“Where…where are you going?” Danny asked in a slightly-higher than normal voice as Steve prowled past their location. McGarrett turned back, stared down at Danny, and debated his answer. 

“I’m going to go stretch out in the back, and pray for this headache to go away. Is that all right with you, soldier?” 

“Yes, sir,” Danny gulped, shrinking down slightly in his seat. Ensign James followed Steve, and sat down next to Max.

“Hey,” he said softly. 

“Hey,” Max replied. 

The second after Steve stalked past, Bergman unbuckled his seatbelt, and fled up the aisle to sit by Danny, who was on his knees in his seat, watching Steve in the rear of the passenger compartment. McGarrett shoved away armrests, folded back seat cushions, kicked a couple of recalcitrant seat components out of his way, and folded down what could only be described as a mattress, though it was barely three feet wide and not more than five feet long.

“How did he know that was there?” Danny whispered to Max, who smiled knowingly. 

“Clearly Commander McGarrett has flown on one of these planes before,” Max speculated. “I have a much better question for you, Detective.” 

“What’s that?” Danny whispered, turning around in his seat and sitting down, peering up a second later to watch Steve stretch his limbs in all directions, rotate his waist side to side, scratch his backside, and then curl up on the small, foam mattress. Bathed in sunbeams and dreams, McGarrett went back under. 

“Where’s Milo?” Max wondered.


	10. The Cargo Hold

“Why were you distressed over your phone messages earlier?” Max asked as Danny watched Steve sleeping. 

Danny was turned sideways in his seat, hands clutching the arm rests. Ensign James sat straight up, wringing his hands, both eyes locked on his target. 

“Detective Williams?” Max continued.

One poisonous blue eye slid open. Steve uncurled from his dangerous coil. 

“Ensign, is there any particular reason you’re watching me sleep?” Steve hissed. 

“No, sir!” James stammered. 

Steve blinked and scratched the back of his head for a moment. His hair stood up like unkempt fur. 

“Then fuck off and lemme sleep,” McGarrett rumbled. He turned around on the tiny mattress, repositioned himself in the sun’s evening rays, and went back to sleep with a deep sigh. 

“Detective Williams?” Max prodded. Danny wasn’t listening. Ensign James slinked back to the cockpit, tail between his legs. 

“Hey. Hey. Where. Are. You. Going?” Danny hissed. 

“Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope,” Ensign James replied, shaking his head, climbing into the co-pilot’s seat. 

“Are you a man or a mouse?” Danny hissed some more. 

“Williams?” McGarrett rumbled from the back of the plane. Danny froze in place, eyes widening. “Don’t make me come up there.” 

Max used one hand to push Danny back down in his seat. Williams glared daggers at Ensign James. Captain Spaulding was barely holding back snorts of laughter. Her hands were trembling on the steering column. 

“Do you know he once killed a man with a roll of Scotch tape?” Ensign James whispered to Captain Spaulding. 

“I knew I should have brought Snippy instead of you,” Spaulding whispered to James. “Take the com, soldier.” 

“I….I…..don’t fly.” 

“Hold the steering column steady for two minutes. I gotta pee,” Spaulding laughed softly. 

“What if I fuck up?” James fretted. 

“You can’t fuck this up, James. See the instruments? See those straight lines, those little dials which are on an even keel?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Hold the column steady, and don’t let any of the gauges change position. Easy, right?” 

“Where are you going?” 

“I gotta pee,” Spaulding repeated. 

“You can’t hold it until Los Angeles?” 

“I am definitely bringing my dog instead of you next time,” Spaulding murmured, shaking her head and grinning slightly as she passed Danny and Max. “Hey, Commander?” she called as she neared McGarrett. Danny assumed she didn’t want to startle him by going past him unannounced. 

Steve sprang up, eyed wide, and stood at attention. 

“Yes, sir?! Sorry, Captain.” 

“Can you go make sure my ensign doesn’t crash us in Death Valley? I’ll be back in two minutes.” 

“Yes, sir,” Steve answered with a quick nod, rubbing his eyes and heading for the front of the plane. 

Danny and Max watched Steve carefully. McGarrett stalked up to the pilot’s seat, sat down, put on headgear, and flipped the mic into place along his jaw line. He studied the instrumentation, drank in the information, and catalogued everything he needed to know. He planted his feet, put one hand on the steering column, and clicked a couple toggles. 

McGarrett glanced sideways at the trembling ensign, dark amusement in his eyes. 

“You can let go now,” Steve purred. 

If Ensign James had looked back into the rear of the plane, he would have seen the simultaneous, identical looks of horror shared by Danny and Max. It was equally possible that he might have laughed or sobbed. Alas, there was too much military breeding in Ensign James, and he would never have refused an order. He let go of the steering column. 

Nothing happened. The plane continued gliding smoothly. Danny and Max and Ensign James held their collective breath, and then slowly exhaled. 

“Oh, she’s lovely, isn’t she?” Steve whispered, a happy smile taking over his face. 

A hand patted Danny on the back of the head. He leapt up, and sank back down as Captain Spaulding sauntered past. 

“Thank you, Commander. Sorry to wake you up. We’ll be in Los Angeles in no time. You wanna take her down for me?”

“No, sir. I wouldn’t presume, Captain,” Steve refused with a shake of the head. “I need more sleep before I can land a plane properly.” 

“All right then. Thanks very much. I’ll take it from here.”

“The com is yours, sir,” Steve said, relinquishing the pilot’s seat to Spaulding. He stood in the aisle for a moment and admired the view ahead of them before returning to the tiny mattress and his sunbeams. 

“The hell was that?” Ensign James breathed. 

“You might want to hit the head yourself, now that I’m back,” Spaulding suggested. 

Danny’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out. Then he glanced at Max. 

“What is it?” Bergman demanded softly. 

“Dutch made it to San Francisco, but she can’t find Chin and Kono. The Navy claims they haven’t seen them, don’t know where they are.” 

“That’s bad.” 

“That’s very bad. What’s more, the Navy is demanding to know where we are.” 

“We, all of us, or just the Commander?” 

“The Navy wants Steve, and they want him now. You and I are immaterial.”

“What are they going to do if Dutch doesn’t tell them where we are?” Max asked. 

“Oh, fudge,” Spaulding whispered. 

“What?” James whispered back. 

“Commander, I’m going to need your help again,” Spaulding called out. Steve was on his feet and rushing forward. 

“Yes, sir?” 

“Ensign, hop up.”

“But…” James protested. 

“Ensign?!” McGarrett snapped. 

Ensign James buckled himself in next to Danny and Max. 

“What is it?” Danny whispered as he put his phone away. 

“We’re coming in to Los Angeles, right on schedule.” 

There were voices on her headset.

“Then what’s the problem?” Steve asked. 

“They’ve sent us an escort, that’s the problem,” Spaulding replied. “I need silence, and I need it now. No incidental chatter, gentlemen.”

“And you said this wouldn’t be any fun?” McGarrett purred happily as he pulled on a headset and listened to the conversation taking place. 

“Unidentified vessel. Please state your call numbers, your point of origin, and your destination.”

“Good Evening, gentlemen, and thank you for the warm welcome to the City of Angels," Captain Spaulding replied. 

“Please identify.” 

Spaulding looked at McGarrett, and Steve’s blue eyes filled with mirth. He put a couple fingers over his mic and mouthed words at her. Based solely on her expression, Danny decided to tighten his seatbelt. Spaulding was shaking her head no. McGarrett was nodding yes. 

“This is USAF 55-0037. My name is Captain Amy Spaulding. We departed Colorado Springs at 1300 with cargo for Pearl-Hickam. Refueling in Los Angeles. Headed to Paradise tonight. Hope to be there by 0100. We’re on a timeline, and I’d like to stay that way, if you don’t mind,” Spaulding replied to the voices on the com. 

“Thank you very much, USAF 55-0037. Please reply with your manifest and passenger list.” 

McGarrett made a gesture at Spaulding, both hands up, scooting back slightly in his seat. 

“Hold your fire,” Spaulding whispered to McGarrett. 

“Say again, Captain Spaulding?” 

“I said, hold your fire, son. I’m pulling up the manifest now.”

Spaulding made a grabby motion at Steve, snapping her fingers, pointing to the other side of the cockpit. McGarrett was opening and closing compartments fore and aft of his seat. He pulled out another metal clad spiral bound and set it in Spaulding’s lap. 

“Okay, here we go. We're carrying water. We're carrying mess kits. We're carrying assorted uniforms and boots. We’re carrying ordinance and ammunition for the practice range. M203s. Those are grenande launchers, in case you’re curious. A shipment of Colt M4s, plus ammunition. Twenty-seven packed and prepped parachutes. Odd number. A couple containers of shiny new Sig P226s. I think those are for the Navy boys. They like the dainty sidearms.” 

McGarrett smirked and shook his head at her. 

“Oh, and we’ve also got ammunition for the P226s. Lots and lots and lots of…” 

“Captain Spaulding, Los Angeles is far more interested in your passenger list. If you would please?” 

“Well, since you’re being so polite…” Spaulding began. She clicked off the com for a moment as Steve climbed up out of his seat. “Where you going, Commander?” 

“Shopping,” Steve replied. 

“James?” Spaulding called out. 

“Yes, Captain?” 

“Go with the Commander. See that he gets what he needs.” 

“Yes, Captain,” the ensign replied. He hurried down the aisle behind McGarrett. 

“What does he mean he’s going shopping?” Danny asked. 

“Say again, Los Angeles? I’m having trouble hearing you,” Spaulding repeated into the com. She reached backwards behind herself, and withdrew a sidearm. 

“Uh oh,” Max cringed. 

“Los Angeles, this is USAF 55-0037. Captain Spaulding at the controls. I think we’re having an air emergency here. Request permission to land.”

“What sort of emergency?” the voice on the com replied. 

Spaulding closed her eyes, turned her face away, and fired several shots into the instrument panels. Sparks and jolts and alarms filled the area, along with smoke and the acrid smell of electrical fires. 

“Accidental discharge of a firearm, sir. Oh, I was afraid of that. My systems are shutting down one by one. Definitely having an air emergency here, say again. Air emergency. May I land this Herc on your airfield, son, or do you want me to have to ditch her in the desert?” 

Max was clutching the seat with both hands, eyes shut tight, whimpering as the plane descended at a sharp angle. Danny, on the other hand, was rising up out of his seat. Ensign James was returning from the cargo hold. Steve was not with him. Danny's alarms were sounding a lot louder than the plane's alarms were. 

“Where’s Steve?” Danny demanded. Ensign James was pale as a ghost. He strode right past Danny and ignored him. 

“Where’s the Commander?” Spaulding asked, fighting with the steering column.

“What happened to the plane?!” James screamed. 

“You first!” Spaulding screamed back. 

“He’s back there drooling over the P226’s.”

“You left him alone?” Danny howled. “Mudderfudder….” 

Williams fought the pitch of the plane in order to climb his way towards the cargo hold, which was fast tilting higher than the passenger seating and the cockpit. 

“Why is it every time I get on a plane with you, something bad happens?!” Ensign James cried out loudly. 

“Sit down, buckle up, and shut your face. Why do you have to be such a baby?” Spaulding grinned broadly. 

A loud explosion rocked the plane wildly. 

"What was that?" Ensign James demanded. 

“Los Angeles?? This is 55-0037. Captain Spaulding again. I seem to have lost integrity in my cargo hold. My instruments are indicating a gaping hole in the side of my plane. Are you sons-a-bitches firing at me?” 

“That’s a negative, 55-0037. Repeat. That’s a negative. We are not firing on your plane." 

“That’s not good,” Spaulding decided. “Hold on tight. We’re going down.” 

"I am never EVER getting in another plane with you!" James yelled at Spaulding. 

"Bet you wish you had used the bathroom when I told you to," Spaulding cackled playfully. "James, grab the steering column and help me hang on." 

Ensign James compiled, planting his considerable frame, and helping hold the plane steady. Another explosion rocked the cargo hold, followed by a loud wail that drifted off into the falling night. The wail sounded suspiciously like 'Steve, nooooo'.

"Was that....?" Max wondered. 

"Not good," Spaulding decided grimly. 

"So not good," Ensign James agreed. 

"USAF 55-0037? Captain Spaulding? Are there people parachuting out of your cargo hold?" 

"What is your name, son?" Spaulding asked.

"Lieutenant Kyle Russell."

"Lieutenant Russell, my cockpit is filled with smoke. My instruments are peeing hydraulic fluid like an over-excited Chihuahua. I'm having difficulty maintaining altitude. And you wanna talk to me about my cargo hold?" 

"Captain Spaulding, with all due respect, you need to put that plane down. Now."

"I've got them on visual. Two people. One chute. I'll send out a team. Hopefully we can intercept before it's totally black out there," a second voice said over the com. 

"Affirmative. Thanks, TC. Captain Spaulding? This is Lieutenant Russell again. I'm going to have to ask you nicely, ma'am, to land that plane without further incident." 

"Affirmative, Lieutenant Russell. I'm more than willing to land the plane. Just point me where you want me to go."


	11. The Base at Los Angeles

The small room where Captain Spaulding, Ensign James, and Dr. Bergman were seated was already a wee bit crowded. But it was better than the military holding cells had been. Except that it was also an annoying shade of pale pink. The three of them were holding their breath in the silence, not speaking, not looking at each other, lost in their own thoughts. 

Max was pondering why in the world thirty-six hours had already passed, and they were still being held at Los Angeles Air Force Base. Ensign James was thinking happily on having had the good sense to freeze the leftover take-out from Monday night. Because linguine Alfredo with chicken and shrimp sounded awfully good right now. Captain Spaulding was wondering if Snippy was lonely at home, and was also thankful for the fact that Dr. Reid’s pet sitter was also willing to walk the short distance between their two houses and look after the captain’s high-strung whippet too. 

The door opened. Joe White stepped in with a wide smile. Full forest camo gear, big black boots – the whole nine yards. He was followed by two other people – a general in an Air Force uniform, and a young woman with a heart-shaped face and a gray overcoat. 

“Oh, thank goodness,” Max sighed loudly. 

“General Scott? Good to see you,” Spaulding murmured, rising to her feet. 

“Sir?!” James echoed, rising as well. 

“I take it your presence is a good sign, Mr. White. As is yours, Agent Vandervries?” Max asked. “Are we going to be released now?” 

“Yes and no,” Joe answered cryptically. 

“The Commander and the Detective?” Spaulding questioned. “Have you located them yet?” 

Joe chuckled and beamed proudly, and General Scott gave him a sour frown. 

“Go ahead, Mr. White. I know you’ve been dying to say it.” 

“Well, General Scott. Thirty-six hours, and four interception teams later, and your boys are no closer to finding my boy than you were when he first parachuted into Angeles National Forest. I think I’m due a little preening, don’t you?” 

“It’s 650,000 square miles of forest and mountains. Don’t pat yourself on the back yet. It’ll take time, but we’re going to find Commander McGarrett. Just you wait,” General Scott replied, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Has there been any sign of them?” Spaulding worried.

“Right this way. We’re hoping you can help us,” Agent Vandervries replied. She herded the three detainees into the hallway like a border collie with recalcitrant sheep. 

“What is it? What’s happened? What did the Commander do to the interception teams?” Ensign James worried. 

They were ushered into a military command center, filled with personnel dashing back and forth, computer monitors showing different locations in the national forest in question, and several soldiers in different uniforms working seamlessly together on one central mission. 

“It warms my heart,” Joe murmured, laying one hand over said organ, his smile widening ever more. “In answer to your question, the Commander nullified each and every one of the twelve people who were sent in after him.” 

“Nullified?” James breathed. 

“In what manner?” Spaulding whispered. It wasn’t sitting well with her that McGarrett had managed to slip her grasp. She hoped to hell he hadn’t hurt anyone, or worse. 

“We found them bound and gagged and trussed up in the trees, one by one,” General Scott replied, miffed. 

“So he didn’t hurt them?” 

“An incidental black eye here and there….” Joe murmured, shaking his head dismissively. 

“I believe we have the presence of Detective Williams to thank for the Commander being on his best behavior, so far,” Max interjected quietly. “Have you learned anything in the interim concerning the Commander’s condition, and possible courses of action which can be taken once we have managed to re-secure both him and Detective Williams?” 

“My people went over each and every article we recovered from the Manhattan apartment,” White replied. 

“What did you find out?” Max wondered. 

“Step right this way,” White urged, motioning to a room off to the side of the command center. Max stepped through the door, and recoiled in surprise, as did Spaulding and James. 

“Why have you have reassembled parts of their den and bedroom?” Dr. Bergman wanted to know. 

“Stay right there,” Joe ordered. Max stood still as White motioned for Spaulding and James to step back to the doorway. He directed their attention to the bank of monitors outside the door, along the wall. Max was visible from every possible direction, eerily similar to certain video games which allowed players to guide and determine the lives of their avatars. Max peered around the doorway, and blinked in surprise. 

“She was monitoring the Commander at home?” he asked. 

“There wasn’t an inch of the apartment out of the reach of the cameras,” Joe explained. “Dr. Handler continued using behavioral modification after she brought Steve home from the lab, under the pretense that he was her husband James Geist. We’ve found countless hours of digital media hidden in the bookshelves in the den. Not just Steve. All her other victims as well. We have a team combing over the footage for clues to what might be going on in Steve’s head.”

“Anything useful so far?” Max asked. 

Joe inhaled deeply, his smile fading. “Let’s just say it’s probably better for Dr. Handler that the NYPD has her protective custody.”

Dutch was staring at the ground, wringing her hands together anxiously. 

“Thanks to her own copious notes and digital records, we’ve got enough evidence to put this woman away until she’s three hundred years old. Kidnapping is only the start of what she’s done to her test subjects,” Vandervries whispered. 

“Dutch is about to fly back to New York and interrogate Dr. Handler,” Joe explained. 

“Why not bring Dr. Handler here? Or take her back to Hawaii?” Max asked. 

“I want to keep as much distance between her and Steve as humanly possible,” Joe replied from behind clenched teeth. 

"Is there any news from Lieutenant Kelly and Officer Kalakaua?" Max hoped. 

"They made it home to Honolulu, and they're coordinating with the Navy there," White answered. 

"Coordinating with the Navy?" Max was concerned by this development. The last thing he had heard was that the Navy was chasing and trying to detain Chin and Kono. Very interesting indeed. 

“How can we help?” Spaulding wondered.

“I’d like to go over everything that happened in the airplane,” Joe pleaded. “What did he say to you? What did he do?”

“Why do you ask?” Spaulding gulped. 

“The Commander has been leaving notes with the personnel that he’s neutralized,” General Scott explained. “He keeps asking if his captain and the rest of his SEAL team are safe.” 

“Are we safe?” James asked. 

“General, sir?”

“Yes, Lieutenant?” 

They had been interrupted by a young man in a flight suit. He motioned General Scott to one side. 

“We’ve got friendlies coming in from Pearl-Hickam. Two Navy brass, a reconnaissance team, and a medical team. They’re requesting permission to land, and they’re insisting that they be allowed to join the search for Commander McGarrett. They want to take point, in fact.” 

“Do they really?” General Scott smiled slowly. “Arrogant bastards,” he frowned the next second, giving Joe White a dirty look. 

“Look on the bright side, Scott,” Joe said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Bright side? I’ve got a mentally-unbalanced Navy SEAL with a seemingly-unlimited supply of firearms and ammo, running around a national forest, nullifying every elite interceptor team I send to find him. Cannibalizing their kits and destroying their equipment. He’s got a head start. He’s got buttloads of survivalist training. He’s got a hostage. Where’s the bright side again?” 

“The Navy is here to help. Don’t you realize what that means?” Joe countered. 

“No. What?” 

“The CIA has confirmed that the man we’re chasing is Commander McGarrett. The Governor of Hawaii has also confirmed it. Maybe the fact the Navy is willing to lend a hand means they’ve come around too,” Joe hoped. 

“Ironically, the only person who might not believe McGarrett is McGarrett, is McGarrett himself,” Max pointed out. 

“Lieutenant Russell, tell the Navy they’re free to land, and that we’ll be happy to coordiate our efforts to find Commander McGarrett and Detective Williams,” General Scott said to the young man next to him. 

“Yes, sir!” the young man said before hurrying off again, turning his earpiece back on and speaking rapidly into the mic. 

“I do have a few more questions concerning the condition of our missing friends,” Dr. Bergman said. 

“What’s that?” Joe asked. 

“You classified Detective Williams as a hostage?” 

“That is the assumption that we’re operating on at this time,” General Scott answered. 

“If the Commander is getting messages to you, are you getting messages back to him?” 

“Yes,” Scott nodded. “That’s where we’re hoping you three can help.” 

“Sir?” James and Spaulding stood up straighter. 

“You, Ensign, will go first. You are going to grab a seat, and answer a few questions for the nice Lieutenant over there,” General Scott pointed Ensign James towards a nearby console, where a young Air Force officer waited. 

“Yes, sir,” Ensign James nodded, hurrying off. 

“Spaulding, you connected with the Commander while on board that flight from Colorado Springs, am I correct?” General Scott asked. 

“Yes, sir. He took one look at my captain’s bars, and did everything I told him to do.” 

“That’s Steve’s training kicking in,” Joe nodded proudly. 

“Okay. We’re going to meet with the Navy personnel that just landed, and then we’re going to put together another team, and you’re going to go out into those woods with that team, and see if you can talk the Commander into turning himself in, or at least into releasing Detective Williams,” General Scott said. 

“Oh, wait, whoa. I’m all for that idea, talking the Commander into surrendering without further incident, but wouldn’t it make a helluva lot more sense to send Mr. White in there?” Amy protested quietly. “I’m just a captain in his hallucination. You were his commanding officer.” 

“I’ll be going with you,” Joe replied. 

“Good,” Spaulding nodded. "He is far more likely to obey your commands than he is to obey mine, because you have worked together before."

“How may I be of assistance?” Max asked. 

“Dr. Bergman, I’d like for you to join the team combing the evidence from the apartment,” Joe requested. “Keep in contact with Dutch during her flight back to New York. Give her anything and everything you think will help her get the upper hand in her interrogation of Dr. Handler.”

“Yes, sir. A capital plan. I quite agree,” Max burbled.


	12. The Detective

“If you had told me from the beginning that you were a civilian liaison and not a solider, I wouldn’t have been so hard on you,” the Commander said as he folded up the paper in his grip and tucked it into his uniform pocket. 

The smile on Detective Williams’ face said it all. Wicked, and curved to one side, displaying a few teeth, but not too many. He didn’t want to look too cocky. He didn’t want to tip the balance of the delicate détente he had reached with Steve over the last few hours together. He wanted to be on equal footing, and he wanted to build trust with him. 

“Would it really have made that much difference?” Danny asked, searching through his pockets for the lighter he had pinched off one of the last interceptor teams they had demolished, denuded, and embarrassed. 

“I would have smack-talked you a little more gently,” the Commander murmured in reply, and not without a twinkle of mischief in his stormy blue eyes. Danny lit his own folded note up with the lighter, watching the paper curl and blacken and fall into ashes which were picked up by the wind. 

“I am not so delicate that I can’t handle a bit of smack-talk,” Danny replied. “May I have your note as well?” 

“You gonna burn it too?” 

“Order are orders.” 

“Yes, sir,” the Commander replied, handing it to Danny. 

Williams torched the second note as well, letting the ashes fly away. Danny remained seated on the ground as Steve prowled around their small encampment. Sniffing the wind. Eyes narrowed into the distance to study the mountainous terrain and the wilderness for any signs of danger. Williams watched the notes as they disappeared completely. For all the times he had called Steve an animal in jest, he hadn’t realized how close to the truth he had been. Being in the woods with Steve was very much like having a feral beast by his side. 

Danny’s note had sounded exactly the way Joe White talked: Come to the coordinates programmed into the GPS device. Stay close to McG and observe him for signs of distress. Do not call him anything other than “Commander”. We will rendezvous in ten hours. Civs have been evacuated from park. We are sending in a team to distract McG and keep him occupied until you reach the extraction point. 

“Max and the others made it out safely. They’re waiting for us. We’re to rendezvous with the extraction team in ten hours at the given set of coordinates. Are we in agreement?” Danny asked. He stowed the lighter in his upper front pocket, once again feeling a chill of danger as he watched the skepticism playing through Steve’s eyes. 

“My orders said the same, and that I need to protect you from harm. My CO is concerned that another interception team has been dropped in to find you,” McGarrett murmured. 

“Well, that’s flattering,” Danny grumbled. 

“You really must have pissed someone off,” Steve said, his eyes studying Danny, looking for any hint as to why people might be trying to kill him. “We should proceed with all necessary caution. Let’s pull camp, and make our way towards the coordinates. We’ll set up another camp there.” 

“The coordinates, yes,” Danny agreed, watching Steve fiddle with the display on the GPS device. 

“They’re a good five hour hike from here. That doesn’t give us much time to dally.” 

Danny bundled up their supplies into two backpacks, moaning in annoyance. 

“Five freaking hours, huh? For you, maybe.” 

“What? You don’t get this kind of workout in your day job?” Steve asked, tucking the GPS device away and pulling the larger of the two backpacks up onto his shoulders. 

“Not even close,” Danny admitted. Steve glanced him up and down, taking in the way his borrowed camo uniformed covered his physique. 

“This’ll be good for you. Maybe you’ll work a couple of those extra pounds off,” McGarrett murmured with a sly smile, reaching down to pat Danny’s belly before turning on one foot and heading up the hill. 

“I’ve missed this about you,” Danny whispered under his breath, following in Steve’s footsteps as he shouldered his own pack. 

Thirty-six hours was a long time to be stuck in the forest when you aren’t a fan of the great outdoors. Let alone being stuck with a slightly-off-kilter man suffering from hallucinations and the tail-end of withdrawal symptoms. True enough, they had started this little trek under the best of all possible circumstances. McGarrett had fished out the supplies that they needed from the cargo hold’s contents. He strapped on a parachute, grabbed Danny and laced him quickly and carefully to himself. He had taken the precaution of hooking them to one of the restraints to avoid getting sucked out of the cargo hold when the emergency decompression occurred. Danny understood what Steve was planning when he hooked them to the plane’s frame. McGarrett had aimed one of the grenade launchers directly at the plane, and put two holes in her – one in the bottom and one in the side. Steve carefully unhooked their leash, and leapt out of the cargo hold with Danny in tow, like he’d done this a million times before. 

Calmly, casually, and without so much as a twitch of alarm. This was same old, same old, as far as McGarrett was concerned. He had fallen into a comfortable routine. There was no doubt in Danny’s mind that Steve had done this so many times that he could do it by rote. Not so much for Danny, who had screamed the whole way down, at least until McGarrett wrapped a meaty paw around his mouth and told him to shut the fuck up. 

Since then, Steve had systematically taken out each and every one of the members of the interception teams which were sent to find the two of them. Steve would subdue them, render them unconscious, strip them of their uniforms and their materials and supplies, and leave them in a place where they would be easily found. Then Danny and Steve would hike on to the next camp site, conceal themselves for a couple hours of sleep, and watch, and sleep, and watch. They would wolf down their purloined MREs, sometimes sitting, sometimes standing, or sometimes while still hiking. During their trek, Steve would give Danny persuasive lectures about the terrific gambling addiction programs that the Navy had to offer. 

“What have you missed?” McGarrett asked as he made his way to the top of the hill, over mountainous terrain which challenged him more on the left side than on his right. 

Danny panted while climbing up behind Steve. He studied McGarrett for a few moments before he answered. He hadn’t entirely convinced himself that he himself wasn’t having some massive psychological hallucination, and that he was going to come to his senses, at home alone in Oahu, without Steve by his side again. The idea of that wrecked Danny. He caught his breath in pain, and tried to memorize every single detail that he could. 

“This. It’s been a whole ten minutes since you busted my chops. I was getting lonely,” Danny answered finally. 

McGarrett laughed a little, and fell in step behind Williams. 

Thirty-six hours had been enough time for Danny to think long and hard about the plane and car rides they had taken to get to this point. At least the parts where he hadn’t been asleep. He wasn’t a psychologist. He wasn’t a therapist. He wasn’t even qualified to begin to analyze what Steve’s problems were. But he was a damned good detective, and he could read people, and he was relying on those instincts now more than ever. 

Danny had in fact noticed that Captain Spaulding had never referred to Steve by name. She had always referred to him by rank, and that had seemed to connect with to his primeval brain and his military training. When he was on a mission, Steve was all business. So it made sense that he was responding to being called by his rank. Perhaps he had been on missions so covert that no one knew anyone else’s real name, and they had only referred to each other by rank. 

Danny huffed along, feeling those stormy eyes watching him, sizing him up, and checking him out even. Thirty-six hours was a long time to spend shadowing a guy. He was a seasoned police detective, and he picked up on things. Like how close McGarrett walked to him, more than once accidentally brushing against him. It could have been because Steve’s gait was not as steady as it used to be. It was clear that the accident had left lingering physical problems. Or it could have been there were other reasons. Danny was going to let himself hope. Those blue eyes kept traveling over Danny, his person, his face, his demeanor. There was no denying that Steve was attracted to Danny. 

The biggest thing that Danny had noticed in the last thirty-six hours is that when Steve was Steve, well, when he was The Commander, Milo disappeared. All Jim Geist had been concerned about was keeping Milo safe, but The Commander didn’t seem to know that Milo even existed. Danny didn’t know how long a normal hallucination lasted. He hoped that keeping Steve occupied with this military operation would keep him from falling back into the guise of Jim Geist. Danny didn’t cherish the idea of having to hunt for an illusory feline in a heavily-wooden national park. It was hard enough keeping up with Steve when he really got into the shadows and lost himself. Not to mention the fact that if Steve disappeared, and Jim Geist returned, their chances of being able to get safely through this park were greatly diminished. Funny how Jim was always worried about Milo, whereas Steve……

Williams glanced back at McGarrett as he drew himself into the shadows. The only part of Steve that was visible were his eyes. They shined almost luminously. A sudden thought struck Danny so hard that he caught his breath and stumbled. McGarrett snatched out and steadied him, then ducked down against a large, scratchy tree trunk with him in tow. 

Voices. Steve had heard voices. Danny had too. Three figures in camo uniforms and combat boots appeared along the forest path. Shouldering large packs. Clicking and chirping with small locator devices which they swung back and forth. Steve blanketed himself over Danny against the trunk, and watched the soldiers saunter past. 

“Swear to God, I saw someone,” the tallest one said. He would have had the best vantage point, after all, wouldn’t he?

“Full of shit,” the second one muttered. 

“No, sir. Two people crested the ridge. Then they vanished.” 

“What about the beacon?” the second one asked.

“It was there, and then it was gone.” 

“The Commander is no fool. He’d’ve turned the GPS device off. Keep your eyes peeled,” the last one warned, pulling a set of binoculars to his face and scanning the horizon when he joined the others at the point where the forest path came out into the sunlight. 

Danny watched Steve as McGarrett focused on the trio of soldiers. 

“Interception team?” Danny questioned in a whisper. 

“We’ll have to use the GPS sparingly,” McGarrett hummed. Danny gazed up over one shoulder. How could he have forgotten how big Steve was, or how warm when he was this close? Steve’s breath was tickling the back of Danny’s neck. He shuddered involuntarily, and licked his mouth. 

“Take them out like the others?” Danny asked. 

“We need to keep moving. No time to stalk prey,” Steve replied. He couldn’t hope to hide his disappointment. 

McGarrett pulled Danny down again when the last soldier in line turned their direction. A long arm slid around Danny’s waist. Williams couldn’t help the memories running through his head, distant nights spent intertwined in bed with Steve. Memories like that had sustained Danny these three years as he had searched for his missing husband. Williams held tight to the arm around his waist, vowing to never let go again. 

The three soldiers moved on down the hill that Danny and Steve had just climbed. They passed the encampment without so much as a side glance. McGarrett snorted in amusement, and tucked his mouth against Williams’ ear. 

“We shouldn’t. We don’t have enough time. We need to keep moving,” Steve whispered. Oh, but he wanted to go after them, didn’t he? It was hard to watch them disappear down into the valley. 

“Should we….should we go?” Danny wondered, turning his head a smidgen to the right. He and Steve were nose to nose. McGarrett gazed into Danny’s eyes, blinked once, and then stared at his mouth. 

“Are you….have we….” Steve stammered. 

“What?” Danny asked, fighting a sexy smile. 

“I keep thinking….” 

“Thinking what?” Danny asked innocently. Close. So close. He wouldn’t hardly have to move an inch to be pressing his lips against his husband’s lips. That seemed to be all Steve was thinking about too. The tip of his tongue darted out. He dragged his bottom lip with his front teeth, and lifted his eyes to Danny’s eyes again. He looked puzzled, and lost, and very apologetic. 

“I’m married,” Steve murmured, a seeming non-sequitur. 

“So am I,” Danny grinned. 

“We should go,” Steve said, standing up in a slow, long stretch which left Danny staring at one knee cap, and fighting a chuckle. He pawed his way up McGarrett’s lean thigh, grasping him for a handhold. Steve walked behind Danny, eyeing Williams’ backside. McGarrett was rubbing the third finger of his left hand as though he knew something was missing.


	13. The First Interrogation

_Day One:_  
_The patient is a thirty-seven year old male, exhibiting classic post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms – hypervigilance, paranoia, sleep disturbances, irritability, emotional withdrawal, and de-sensitivity to acts of violence. It is our firm hope that with the correct pharmacological regime and behavior modification, we can help him successfully assimilate back into a civilian setting._

_The patient is currently in less-than-optimal condition, owing to injuries received during the procurement process. He is combative and uncooperative, a threat to staff in spite of his physical condition. The patient has a concussion, a broken left tibia and fibula, a dislocated patella, and various contusions and bruising. Nothing that won’t heal. He is a fine specimen._

_Note to self—we will need to acquire a lab assistant to replace one lost during the procurement procedure._

 

_Day Five:_  
_The patient’s physical condition is steadily improving. However, we have had to administer a spinal block in order to immobilize the patient, in order to prevent him from causing further harm to himself or others._

_Note to self – we will need to acquire another lab assistant._

 

 _Day Fifteen:_  
_The patient’s concussion symptoms have lessened to the point where we can safely begin to administer the prescribed drug regime and begin the behavioral modification therapy._

_Note to self – we will need to acquire another lab assistant. A very large lab assistant. We will stress to the other assistants the need to keep any and all sharp objects out of the patient’s immediate reach._

 

_Day Twenty:_  
_We have had to take the precaution of restraining the patient’s arms as well as his legs in order to prevent any further harm coming to the lab assistants. This has left him agitated, and increased his level of anxiety._

_We have increased the prescribed calming agent. Perhaps the judicious use a muzzle would also help? Wound to left hand is healing slowly. Developed an infection in the bite._

_Note to self – we will need to acquire two new lab assistants. Preferably with previous combat experience._

 

_Day Twenty Five:_  
_At last, we may have found the correct amount of calming agent required to keep the patient in a cooperative frame of mind. There is growing concern that the level of agent required will impede the specimen's cognitive abilities._

_The new lab assistants have survived three days. We are quite impressed._

_Day Twenty Six:_  
_Unfortunately we will need to acquire another lab assistant. An increase in the calming agent is also required._

__

__Agent Vandervries could not help the smile which twitched on her mouth as she flipped casually through the notes laid out on the interrogation room table. She swallowed a tiny smirk, and lifted her green eyes from the page in order to study the woman seated across from her._ _

__Her first impulse was to check and make sure that the picture and description matched the person sitting there. Dr. Elizabeth Handler – only one of many aliases the woman had used in the last twelve years – she certainly didn’t look the part of a menacing mad scientist who drugged men and held them captive. Dutch thought Libby had a deceptively-kind face, lovely blue eyes, a friendly smile, and a petite frame which belayed any notion that she might be able to strong-arm ex-military men._ _

__How could she possibly have accomplished this? She was so sweet, and tiny. She looked like a Kindergarten teacher! Dutch stopped herself when she realized she was falling under the same misconceptions that people drew about her. They judged her by her outward appearance, often failing to give her enough credit for intelligence or guile. She vowed she was not going to underestimate the woman before her. Four victims prior to Commander McGarrett had come and gone, men who had crossed paths with the doctor under her previous aliases, and had the misfortune to catch her eye._ _

__Dutch wasn’t sure how she wanted to classify Dr. Handler. The perpetrator was exhibiting delusions, extreme arrogance, detachment from other human suffering, and other classic sociopathic characteristics. She wasn’t even a real doctor! Dutch cleared her throat and picked her words carefully as she began._ _

__“Miss Handler?”_ _

__Dutch paused again, tucked her head down, and gave into a small laugh. The chosen name was a pun, of course. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? Just as using the last name of Geist for the Commander: a ghost or a spirit. This woman thought she was quite clever, didn’t she? Above average intelligence was yet another characteristic shared by sociopaths._ _

__“Miss Handler, it appears from your copious notes that things did not start out well between yourself and Commander McGarrett. Would I be correct in making this assumption?”_ _

__The woman across the table glanced at the man seated next to her, and replied in a calm, clear voice._ _

__“Under advice from counsel, I will not be answering any questions.”_ _

__Dutch raised a brow at the young man. In spite of the fact that the Navy had finally confirmed that the man Dr. Handler had been holding was Commander Steven J. McGarrett, they were going to supply Dr. Handler with legal counsel. Why in the world would they want to help her? Except of course if they had something at stake here, as much as she had? They certainly didn’t want it getting out that they had been financing this woman, facilitating her procurement of victims. The Navy was seeking to protect their own interests by protecting Dr. Handler. Dutch wondered if perhaps they owned her source material and notes, since they had financed her experiments. Did that mean they could continue her behavioral modification therapy if the doctor was sent to jail?_ _

__“We would like to begin negotiating a plea bargain,” Dr. Handler’s young attorney offered. This might not have been his first case, but he was inexperienced, and that might play to the state’s favor._ _

__Dutch held her tongue, turning to look back over her shoulder towards the one-way mirror behind her. One for yes. Two for no. She gave the mirror a questioning glance. There were two taps on the window from the other side._ _

__“We are not quite ready to talk plea bargain at this point,” Dutch responded, turning back around to the table._ _

__“Why delay the inevitable? There’s no way this is going to go to trial,” the attorney objected. Dutch closed the cover of the file, stacking the pages on one end so they fit neatly inside._ _

__“Your client has been in custody for a little over twenty-four hours. We haven’t had a chance to catalogue all of the evidence against her yet, let alone decide what we will and won’t be willing to offer her in exchange for her complete cooperation. It would be premature to talk plea bargain before we have documented the entire scope of her crimes.”_ _

__“I've instructed her not to answer any of your questions. You cannot force her to testify against herself. She’ll never walk free again. We both know that.”_ _

__“I’m going to make quite sure of that,” Dutch agreed._ _

__“So why make this a long, drawn-out affair? We can get my client the help that she needs, find her a comfortable hospital with an excellent therapy program. Who knows? Maybe she’ll even be able to show them a thing or two that she has learned during the course of her research,” the young attorney offered blithely._ _

__“She held Commander McGarrett under duress for one thousand, one hundred, and twenty two days. She had him kidnapped. She tortured him. She drugged him out of his mind. She conducted behavioral experiments on him. She kept him prisoner under the pretense that he was her husband. She isolated him from all company except her own, to the point that his mind fractured. Do you know that solitary confinement, isolating a person from human contact and human interaction, it can be more devastating to the body and the mind than actual physical pain?”_ _

__“What are you trying to say, Agent Vandervries?” Dr. Handler demanded. “That you know more about the human mind than I do? I find that hard to believe.”_ _

__“You aren’t going to go to a cushy mental hospital, where they’ll psychoanalyze your feelings about your parents and your sexual habits,” Dutch responded with a malevolent purr. “I’m going to see to it that you get sent to a correctional facility where you experience the same kind of emotional and physical depravation that you’ve been inflicting on your victims. You’re not going to spend the rest of your life being coddled and fawned over. You’re going to spend your life in a lonely, dark cell, with nobody for company except the voices in your head.”_ _

__“This interview is over,” the attorney replied sharply, packing up his own notes and pens._ _

__“Don’t go away mad,” Dutch taunted, watching them stand up from the table in a huff._ _

__“You’ve got a lot invested in this case, Agent Vandervries. It would be a shame to see you lose because you became too emotionally compromised to see the facts with a clear mind,” Dr. Handler retorted in an icy voice._ _

__“You have no idea what my client has been through, what life events have shaped her into the person that she is today,” the attorney offered cryptically.__

Dutch snorted, standing up and hugging the file close.

__“You know what? I. Don’t. Care. There are people in the world who have been beaten and tortured and raped and held against their will for years, decades even. People who survived abusive parents. People who survived abusive relationships. People who survived devastating emotional and mental assaults. Not everyone who gets hurt hurts other people in return. It's a conscious decision on the part of the perpetrator to continue the cycle of violence. I don’t buy the excuse. Once we lay out before a jury the crimes your client has committed, the lengths that she has gone to to cover up her lies, the elaborate deceptions she has pulled off, I doubt that anyone is going to believe that she’s an abuse victim who can’t control her instinctual, fearful response to immediate physical or emotional danger.”_ _

__“Abuse and neglect affects everyone differently,” the attorney said on his way to the door, which he held open for Dr. Handler. “Sometimes we can’t control our impulse reactions.”_ _

__"Exactly how was Commander McGarrett a threat to her?"_ _

__"We're not answering any of your questions," Dr. Handler smirked._ _

__“This abuse excuse is nothing but infantile posturing,” Dutch murmured. “Your client is an egomaniacal, power-hungry sadistic who gets her jollies from watching men squirm and scream. She’s not going to lie her way out of this. She is going down.”_ _

__“You’re making a big mistake, Agent Vandervries. My research is going to revolutionize the treatment of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. You won’t discredit my contributions with these lies of yours,” Dr. Handler grumbled as her attorney guided her out of the interrogation room._ _

__Dutch faced the one-way mirror again, and waited. The door opened once more. She could see Dr. Handler being handcuffed and led back to her holding cell, her attorney trailing behind her like an anxious puppy. Dutch smiled faintly at the two men who stepped into the interrogation room with her._ _

__“May I say, Agent, you handled her with a degree of professionalism that would be hard for others to match,” Dr. Bergman complimented._ _

__“Thanks. Doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing there’s a good chance she’s going to bat her eyes, put on a sob story, and worm her way out of long-term incarceration in a real prison though.”_ _

__“Don’t be so sure,” Chin Ho Kelly gave an encouraging smile. “You put her on a stand before a jury, and get her to bring down her mask so they can see the monster, and you’ll have no problem putting her away.”_ _

__“I’m an investigator, not an attorney. It's not going to be up to me."_ _

__“We’ve got her own case notes and collected data,” Chin added._ _

__“Not to mention, countless hours of video footage of Commander McGarrett and her other victims as well,” Max added helpfully too._ _

__“She’s not going to get away with this,” Chin said firmly. “We’ll see to that.”_ _

__“Thanks,” Dutch repeated more quietly. She tapped the folder on the table with a quick snap. “I’ve got…..I got an idea.”_ _

__“What’s that?” Chin asked._ _

__“Commander McGarrett was able to take out several lab assistants before the doctor found the right combination of drugs to subdue him, right? She had to physical incapacitate him in order to leave his mind open to suggestion. And when that didn't work, she resorted to sleep depravation, denial of food, denial of warmth -- essentially enhanced interrogation techniques without the interrogation.”_ _

__“Correct,” Chin agreed._ _

__“Where did she get these assistants?”_ _

__“I believe I know where you’re headed with this plan,” Max smiled._ _

__“She had to advertise somewhere. Notes on a bulletin board? Postings on an online website. She had to have left a trail.”_ _

__“What are we looking for?” Chin asked._ _

__“The question is-- who was Dr. Handler directing these notices at? We’re looking for other people who may have answered those notices, but weren’t hired,” Dutch replied, holding the door open for Chin and Max._ _

__“Max, if you’ll keep combing the video footage, I’ll assist Agent Vandervries in her search,” Chin suggested._ _

__“I am happy to be of service,” Bergman answered._ _


	14. The Video

Danny was panting his way up the next hill, feet aching in the borrowed combat boots that he wore. He had to keep going. It was not just a matter of needing to reach the rendezvous coordinates. At this point, it was a matter of pride, and a matter of keeping Steve safe. He was not going to let McGarrett down. 

The long march was beginning to tire McGarrett out. Danny had noticed a marked difference in him since this morning. Steve was having difficulty keeping up with Danny. In Steve’s hallucination, he was a soldier, a Navy SEAL who could keep going as long as the mission required it. But in reality, he was no longer accustomed to these kinds of treks, and the demands they made on the human body. Three years of being cooped up, drugged, and half-starved had taken its toll on Steve’s endurance levels, to say nothing of the injuries he had incurred as a result of the accident. 

McGarrett glanced behind them, adjusting the heavy pack that he was carrying. It was rubbing raw marks on his shoulders through his uniform shirt. 

“You okay, babe?” Danny asked, pausing beside a stand of ancient pines. 

“I’m fine. We’re being followed,” the Commander murmured, standing beside Danny and taking several deep breaths. 

“How close are we to the coordinates?” Danny asked. 

“We’ve got another hour's walk to go to reach the rendezvous point. But the terrain is getting steeper. I don’t think it’s safe to turn on the GPS device. They’re using it to follow our trail.” 

Williams murmured, “Is it the group we saw this morning?” 

“I don’t think it’s the same group. I saw four people instead of three,” Steve replied. “They’ve dropped back considerably. Not sure where they went.” 

“We should leave the path. Take a small break. Get a little rest. If we’re lucky, they’ll show themselves,” Danny suggested. 

“I don’t know if we should stop.”

“We should stop,” Danny nodded. 

“We should keep moving while it’s daylight. When the sun goes down, the temperature is going to drop,” Steve warned gently. 

“We need to know more about what we’re dealing with. Trust me. It’s better to know who is back there rather than to worry who is back there,” Danny urged. 

Williams gently guided McGarrett off the trail and into the woods, bent on finding a comfortable spot from which they could observe the path without being seen. Another hundred yards down the hill was an outcropping which might serve their purposes. Danny headed that way, and Steve dutifully followed. 

Danny knelt down and shined his flashlight through the tiny archway of stone which led back into a small cave. It must have once served as a burrow for one of the native species. There were discarded bones at the very back, and a few leaves scattered about. But other than that, the space was relatively clean, and large enough to fit two people and their gear. The interior hollow was wider than it was tall. There was between three and four feet of stone on either side of the rock face entrance. 

Swallowing back his fear of confined spaces, Danny contemplated the alternatives. Stay out on the trail and eventually be spotted by the hunting party? Get inside, take a small rest, and head out renewed in a couple hours? This concealed location would allow them to get a look-see at the team trailing them. There wasn’t any choice to be made. 

Danny shimmied out of his pack and shoved it in towards the right. Steve knelt down, and peered inside. He gave Danny a questioning glance, but wearily slid out of his pack as well. Danny shoved the second pack inside towards the left facing in. 

“I’m gonna find some branches to shield the entrance. You take a cat nap,” Danny whispered. Steve nodded sleepily. Now that he had stopped, his fatigue was beginning to show. He crawled in on his hands and knees, curled up, and pillowed his head on his pack.

Williams scanned around, finding several fallen limbs which would serve the purpose of hiding the entrance to their teeny burrow. When he came back to the hollow, he piled the pine limbs and needles, pulling them closed, and digging his way backwards inside. He clicked on his flashlight again. It took him several minutes to calm his own heart, and try to deal with the space around him. Steve was balled up, and he was shivering in his sleep. Danny dug in his pack as quietly as he could, withdrawing one of the cellophane packages marked “combat casualty blanket”. He was dubious about the thin material, but once unfurled, it was bigger and thicker than he could have hoped. He stuffed the empty cellophane into the pack, and shoved the pack back against the wall. Danny wrapped the drab olive material around Steve, and lay down next to him. 

McGarrett quivered. Tired blue eyes opened. The uncertainty in his face scared Danny. Was he going to wake up as The Commander, as Steve McGarrett, or as James Geist? Danny steeled himself to deal with it, whatever way it turned out. He had a mission here. This was no time to panic. 

“Just me,” Danny soothed.

Swagger filled his faint smile. The Commander, then? He hummed and nodded to Danny's words – he understood he wasn’t in danger. His eyes closed again. Danny clicked off the flashlight, and got close enough that they both could fit under the blanket. He rolled onto his side, giving him the perfect vantage point to watch the trail through the branches and needles hiding the entrance. Danny sighed softly, and promised himself a few minutes of rest, keeping an ear open for any approaching steps. 

The blanket rustled. Steve mumbled in his sleep, and pushed his face against Danny’s shoulder. In the barest hint of light which penetrated the branches and needles, Danny could see Steve’s features. He was biting his bottom lip as he dreamt unpleasant dreams. Danny rolled onto his back, and slid his arm around Steve’s thin waist. He needed to close his eyes. The trail could watch itself. 

Danny woke up with a shiver. Time had passed, but not much. It was still light outside their cave. His phone was vibrating in his pocket. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more – the vibration or the idea that they were close enough to a cell tower to be able to receive outside contact. They must have been near a ranger station. It wasn’t a call, but a text from Max.

Max: R U OK?

Danny smiled faintly, and gave silent thanks to whoever had taught Max how to be brief enough to make himself understood in a text message. 

Danny: OK. 

Max: R U SAFE?

Danny: YES. YOU?

Max: YES. IN NY WITH AGENT VANDERVRIES.

Danny: HOWZIT?

Max: SITTING DOWN?

Danny: RESTING. *YAWN*

Max: SORRY! DID I WAKE U?

Danny: IT’S OK. GET TO THE POINT. 

Max: FINISHED COMBING VIDEO. 

Danny: ANYTHING GOOD?

Max: JACKPOT?

Danny: WHAT?

Max: MILO WAS REAL. 

Danny inhaled in surprise then schooled himself to be calm. The last thing he wanted to do was wake McGarrett. Steve didn’t so much as wiggle though. 

Danny: WAS?

Max: WAS. SEND VIDEO?

Should he or shouldn’t he? Steve was dead to the world. Danny checked to make sure that the sound was off on his phone. Twice. 

Danny: SEND VIDEO.

* * *

He was on the bedroom balcony, staring at the traffic below. Snow was filtering down from the sky, leaving traces on the veranda. He picked at the flakes which landed on his hand. Touched them. Tasted them.

How many floors would he have to climb to reach the bottom? If he stared over too long, he wobbled standing in place, but something down there at street level had caught his eyes. 

“Jim? Don’t lean over.”

A hand took his hand, tugging him gently back from the stone barrier as he wobbled again. The blonde woman. What was her name? His confusion showed on his face. He was favoring his left side. He had healing bruises, red marks on his face. He had on long sleeves, so it was impossible to tell whether or not his tattoos were already gone. His hair was uneven, longer on one side than the other, the meaning of which Danny did not want to speculate. 

“Libby,” the man said softly. 

“Yes. I’m Libby,” she smiled in reply. 

“Down?”

“No,” she frowned. 

“Down,” he repeated more firmly. 

“No, Jim.” 

“Yes, Jim,” he replied. 

“Don’t fight with me. Come inside before you catch your death in a cold,” the blonde woman insisted, coaxing him into the bedroom. She closed the balcony doors, drew the curtains, and switched on a bedside lamp in the falling twilight. 

“Down there,” he said emphatically, pointing unsteadily at the balcony. “Need to go down there.” 

“Why do you need to go down there?” the blonde asked, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Saw….” He struggled to find the word, but only managed to make hand motions. Whatever he had seen, it was small enough to fit in one hand, and you could stroke it. He had one hand cupped over the other, moving slowly in the air. She didn’t understand what he was driving at, or at least, she pretended so. 

“I’m going to take a bath and get ready for bed. You stay right here,” the blonde ordered, pointing to the bed. 

He huffed at her, eyes on the balcony. 

“Small,” he said angrily. “Small. Cold. Outside. Down there!” 

“Jim, sit on the bed, and wait for me, and when I am done, I will go down there,” the blonde said.

He made the hand motions again, cupping and stroking the air. 

“Small. Cold. Outside.”

“Jim.” 

“Now!” 

“Don't yell at me. I’ll be right back,” Libby promised. She went into the bathroom and closed the door. His face filled with anger. He hobbled out the room. 

Minutes passed. (Danny fast-forwarded the tape until action resumed.)

The man returned, bright-eyed but shivering, hair and clothes wet from the snow. There was a tiny black and gray bundle against his damp shirt. He lifted the black and gray kitten up, rubbed his nose against its nose, and held it close again. His face glowed with happiness and contentment. 

The blonde woman appeared from the bathroom with her hair in a towel. She spotted him on the bed, holding the small cat, and fury ignited in her face, twisting her features into a hateful scowl. Petite woman or not, she backhanded the unsteady man, and flattened him to the floor. She smirked malevolently at him, scooped up the kitten, and headed for the balcony. 

The man hauled himself up, wincing with pain, and crawled frantically to intercept her. He whirled her to the ground with a feral snarl and snatched the kitten back from her. He held her down with his right knee against her throat. He had to stretch to do it, but he set the kitten on the bed. 

“Jim, get off,” the small woman pleaded as the man loomed over her. “Jim? We talked about this. We do not hit people.” 

“You hit me,” the man replied, brushing at the red patch on his face. “Milo.” 

“What?” she croaked. 

“Collar.” 

“What?” 

He shoved a tiny blue collar into her face. 

“Milo,” he read the name on the tag to her. 

“Fine. His name is Milo. Why should I care?” she spat angrily.

“You. Will. Not. Hurt. Milo,” he loomed down over her, saying each word forcefully, teeth bared. She switched from anger to fear so quickly that it could not have been anything but an act meant to play on his sympathy.

“I won’t hurt Milo. I promise. Jim. Let me up now. Please, sweetheart. Let me up?”

The man debated, slowly pulling back at least far enough to allow the woman to breathe. The towel toppled off her head. 

“Jim? You need to get up,” she whispered, petting and stroking his leg not unlike she wanted to soothe an animal. 

The man debated again. He wanted to believe her, but there was something in the back of his mind which warned him not to trust her. 

“Libby, you will not hurt Milo?"

“Jim, you can’t keep him. He’s got a collar. He must belong to someone in the building. I’ll take him down to the front desk. Ask the guards to find out who he belongs to.”

“You will not hurt Milo.” 

“I promise I won’t hurt Milo. Let me up, Jim.” 

The unsteady man moved off the small woman’s chest. He crawled over to the bed, scooped up the kitten, and cradled it close. 

“Small.” 

“Let me have him. I will make sure he gets downstairs,” the woman offered sweetly. 

“Soft,” he murmured and sighed happily. 

“He’s very soft. Let me have him. Okay, Jim?” 

“Yes, Libby.”

The woman slid her hands into the man’s hands, and scooped up the kitten. She tucked it against one shoulder, patted it gently on the back, and smiled tenderly at the man on the bed. He was not prepared when she reached into her robe pocket, and withdrew a syringe. The sight of the needle filled the man with dread. In an instant, he was down on the floor, scurrying out of reach. She jabbed him in the leg, dropped the needle, and went straight to the balcony door. She was smiling fiendishly as she drew back the curtains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will spoil one plot point in advance. Milo is okay.


	15. The Hiding Place

Danny shut off the video before it ended. The drama had played without sound, but it had not been difficult to follow. He was appalled by what he assumed had happened to Milo. Understatement. As an animal lover, it had hurt clear through to his soul, and left him angry with the universe that people so cruel could be allowed to exist. As hard as it had been to see Milo’s assumed fate, it had been even worse watching the agony and horror which had filled Steve’s face. Immobilized by whatever Dr. Handler had injected him with, and unable to stop her? It must have been devastating for him. 

Danny let the phone drop flat against his chest. He reached down and stroked Steve’s messy hair. In the video, his hair had been unevenly cut, as if he had had a recent surgery which required his hair to be partially shaved. Danny stroked through the black and silver and blue locks, and wondered how much longer it was going to take to get Steve to a doctor he could trust. They needed to know the extent of his injuries. Williams was going to make Dr. Handler pay for the anguish and torment she had inflicted on Steve. And Milo too, for that matter. Poor little fucker never had a chance, Danny sniffed unhappily. 

The phone buzzed. Danny lifted it again. 

Max: THEORY? LCDR MCG INTERNALIZED MILO OUT OF FEELINGS OF GUILT AND HELPLESSNESS. 

Danny texted back: GOOD THEORY, and resumed stroking Steve’s wild hair. 

Max: HE COULD NOT DEAL EMOTIONALLY, AND IT FRACTURED HIS PSYCHE. 

Danny: AGREED.

Max: THERE IS MORE THAT YOU NEED TO KNOW.

Danny flinched. He had seen enough for one day. Hell, for one lifetime! He texted back to Max. 

Danny: NOPE. NOT SO MUCH. 

Max: ARE YOU QUITE SURE, DET. WMS? YOU SHOULD BE MADE AWARE OF THE SCOPE OF HER CRIMES.

Danny could not have been more sure. He had a horrible inkling where Max was headed with this conversation, and nope, he did not need to know every single detail of what the evil doctor had been doing to his helpless, defenseless husband for one thousand, one hundred, and twenty-two days. Visions of his brother Matt in an oil barrel in Columbia flashed through Danny’s mind. What he wouldn’t give to be able to unsee what he had seen that night? No. He did not need another layer of guilt, another layer of pain, another layer of knowing and blaming himself for what had happened to someone he loved.

Danny: SO EFFING SURE.

Max: R U OK? 

Danny: NO.

Max: WE WILL MAKE HER PAY. I PROMISE.

Danny stifled back tears, sniffing softly as he typed. 

Danny: PAY? NOT ENOUGH. SUFFER? YES. 

Max: BE CAREFUL WITH LCDR MCG. 

Danny: BYE 4 NOW, MAX.

Max: BYE 4 NOW. SEE YOU IN A FEW HOURS. DONE WITH VIDEOS. WILL HELP VANDERVRIES CONDUCT INTERVIEWS WITH APARTMENT RESIDENTS. 

Danny tucked his phone away, concentrating on Steve. Stormy blue eyes were watching him back. McGarrett’s face was filled with concern. He narrowly missed banging his head as he sat up in the confines of their hiding space.

“You're upset. Are you hurt? Are you okay? What’s the matter? Have you been injured?” Steve stammered, patting down Danny’s chest, checking his ribs and his shoulders, patting down his arms. 

“I’m okay,” Danny lied, taking the hands, holding tight, kissing softly. McGarrett blinked at him in puzzlement. “You wanna keep your voice down?” Danny added, releasing the hands and motioning out the shielded entrance. Steve burrowed back under the blanket, nudging his way up Danny’s side in order to be able to stare out between the branches and needles. They were both on their stomachs, side by side, staring out into the wilderness. 

“Have you seen anyone yet?” Steve asked. 

“No. But I fell asleep. Who the hell knows?” Danny replied, keeping his tone gentle. “Whole freaking army could have marched past.” 

Steve checked the GPS device, noting the time remaining, and the distance to the extraction coordinates. He quickly shut it back off. 

“It’s almost dark. It might be easier to move around unseen after nightfall,” Danny suggested. McGarrett listened, and nodded in agreement. 

“We’ll stay put for now,” Steve murmured. “What’s that?” 

“Checking the weather,” Danny replied. Steve was frowning at the tiny screen on the phone. 

“Nothing to worry about. We’ve got shelter.” 

“It’s green. That means rain,” Danny corrected.

“A little rain won’t kill us.” 

“The bright side is, if we need shelter, the team following us will also need shelter. And if they are looking for shelter, they won’t be looking for us.” 

“That’s logical.”

“Contain your surprise,” Danny snorted, patting his back.

“Can you reach my bag?” Steve pointed. 

“Hungry?” Danny wondered. 

“Yes. There's pretzels on top. Other stuff too,” Steve replied. Danny eased across Steve in order to unzip and hunt around in the pack, all the while using McGarrett as a pillow. He found the stark, white generic packages of pretzels, cranberries, and beef jerky, labeled with all the nutritional information you might ever need. Next to it were two bottles of water. They had eaten the rest of this particular MRE earlier in the day while walking. 

Danny slid one of the bottles of water down Steve’s shoulder, against his cheek. McGarrett twitched and reached a hand up for the bottle. He twisted the top off, and took a long drink, groaning as Danny climbed back over him to get to a comfortable spot again. 

“When we get home, I’m going to take you out for a real dinner. We are going to celebrate our asses off,” Danny promised, rubbing Steve’s shoulder. 

McGarrett looked puzzled. 

“We’re going back to New Jersey?” 

“Home is Hawaii.” 

“Oh,” Steve nodded. “That’s where she is?” 

“She who?” Danny asked, opening the snack packs and pushing them at Steve. 

“You said you were married,” McGarrett reminded him, eyes all over Danny’s face. 

“My ex-wife lives in Las Vegas.”

“What about your current wife?” 

“I said I was married. I didn’t say ‘she’. My husband and I live in Hawaii,” Danny replied carefully. 

McGarrett blinked wide eyes, and then bit back a pleased smile. 

“What does your husband do?” Steve asked. 

“He’s a cop, and ex-Navy.”

“Like me?”

“A lot like you,” Danny answered, eyes twinkling merrily. 

“Sounds like a complete bad ass. You go for that sort, do you?” McGarrett tormented gently.

“I definitely go for that sort,” Danny confirmed. Steve pulled a pretzel from the small package and held it between his teeth for a second or two before pulling it slowly onto his tongue and into his mouth. All the while, he was sizing Danny up, words stuck in his throat. 

“Does it bother you? That I’m married to a man?” Danny wondered. Concern filled Steve’s face. 

"No. Detective Williams, love makes life bearable, and I’ve been around enough to know that it comes in all shapes and sizes and colors and genders.”

“You’re pretty open-minded for a Navy guy raised under Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” 

Steve shrugged, “Not all military men are homophobic assholes.” 

“What about you? You said you were married. What sort do you go for?” Danny asked with a playful bounce of his eyebrows. Steve paused, ate another pretzel, and rubbed his third finger on his left hand again. 

“We don’t control who we fall in love with. It’s like lightning strikes you, and you’re helpless. You can fight it all you want, but Fate, you know?” 

“My grand-dad used to say, ‘Let Fate lead you by the hand, or she will drag you by the ankle’.”

“I think I would have liked your grandfather,” Steve remarked. 

“I think he would have liked you too,” Danny consoled, taking a piece of beef jerky and giving it an experimental nibble. He swallowed it with a grimace. “God, that’s awful.”

Steve poked the jerky, and decided not to take any chances. He shivered and left it alone. 

“Tell me then. What sort do you go for? Commander?” Danny asked. 

Those stormy blue eyes were watching Danny’s mouth again. They closed briefly, but not before Danny had read the temptation there. 

“I’m married,” McGarrett repeated softly. Danny wasn’t sure if he was reminding him, or reminding himself. 

“I know. So am I,” Danny grinned. Steve opened his eyes slowly, and confusion played on his features.

“If I weren’t though?”

“Yeah?” Danny whispered. 

Steve leaned forward, pressing his nose against Danny’s cheek, murmuring against his warm skin. 

“Someone like you, I think…. Yeah. You’re familiar. Comfortable. I....I feel like.... like we'd fit together.”

“Do you?” Danny hoped, hardly daring to breath. Steve brushed the bridge of his nose along Danny’s jawline, taking in his scent, taking in the feel of his features. 

“Does that sound crazy?” 

“No, babe,” Danny whispered. 

“Mmm,” Steve hummed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t.”

"Shouldn't what?" Danny gulped. 

The kiss was gentle, a delicate brush of lips against lips, followed by a gentle nuzzle against his nose. 

"Sorry," Steve whispered guiltily. 

“I know. You’re married,” Danny snickered. 

Steve inhaled. 

“What?” Danny worried. 

“Footsteps,” Steve whispered, eyes wide. He immediately returned to Commander Mode, and pulled a P226 from his pack, eyes focusing outside their hiding spot as combat boots tromped past. 

"Danny's phone pinged from around this spot. It was faint, but with a boost from the cell tower on the Rangers Station, I mean, yeah, they've gotta be around here." 

Danny sighed with relief, taking the gun away from Steve.

"Kono?" Danny called out, scrambling out of their hiding spot, blinking in the drizzle that had begun to fall. 

Kalakaua turned around ten feet away, and grinned brightly. 

"Shit, look at you. Going all native," Kono teased, pulling Danny to his feet. Williams bent down and stuck an arm inside, helping Steve shimmy out into the open. It took both of them to get McGarrett upright. 

Another pair of boots tromped up. Joe White tipped his rifle skyward, and grinned anew. 

"You look good," he said, patting Steve on the arm. 

"I know you," McGarrett decided. 

"Yes, Commander. We've worked together before. I'm Commander White."

"Yes, sir," Steve nodded unsurely. 

"I'd love to stand here and chat all day, catch up on old times, but we got problems. We have to get moving," Joe warned. 

"What kinda problems?" Danny asked as Kono scuttled back out of their hiding place with both packs. She handed the blanket to McGarrett, who folded it in short order back to its original dimensions. "Hey. Where are the other two who were with you?" 

"That's the problem," Joe explained, staring around, levelling his rifle, narrowing his eyes at the trees.

"We came in with a couple of Navy guys, who gave us the slip about thirty minutes ago," Kono warned. 

"You're working with the Navy now? I thought they were trying to extract Steve for their own purposes?" Danny grumbled. 

"Steve? Who's Steve?" McGarrett asked, frowning. The other three stared at him in concern. 

"We think they doubled back and plan to ambush us when we reach the extraction point," Joe put in quietly. 

"Danny, who's Steve?" McGarrett asked, focusing on him with those intense eyes. 

"Babe, we have to hurry. I'll explain along the way."

"Move out, Commander," Joe White ordered. Steve fell in line behind him, eyes focused ahead instead of on Danny. 

"That was close," Kono whispered, helping Danny get one of the packs onto his back. 

"Sorry," Danny whispered back to her as she shouldered the other bag easily.


	16. The Extraction

“We came in with two teams,” Joe White was explaining as he slithered through the ancient forest, not on the path, but off to the right side. The terrain was a little rougher, and they were making very poor time. They had thirty minutes to reach the extraction coordinates, which were just over the next hill. 

“So what happened?” Danny asked, wishing he was moving with the same sleek grace that Joe had. It was more than a little embarrassing that a man thirty years older than he was could do this without breaking a sweat. Of course, Joe hadn’t been out in the wilderness for almost two days, moving around almost constantly, sleeping very little, trying to stay hidden, and watching his every word and action to keep from spooking his travelling companion. 

“Captain Spaulding took her ensign, and two others, and they headed off one way. Officer Kalakaua and I, and two of the Navy officers, we went off in the other direction. The plan was to have Spaulding find you, and bring you to us, and then we would rendezvous for the extraction. But when our ‘friends’ disappeared, and stopped answering radio hails, well, I decided it was time to be a little more pro-active about this,” Joe continued. 

“There’s at least one more team of three wandering these woods,” Steve warned. 

Kono’s serious expression bothered Danny. She was usually so upbeat, and to see her frowning reinforced the toll this mission had taken on everyone. She was walking beside Steve, who paused for a deep breath and a long drink of water. 

“You all right, Boss?” she asked, gingerly rubbing his elbow. 

“I’m fine,” McGarrett answered, putting away the water bottle. “What unit are you with again, soldier? Since when do you address a senior officer as ‘Boss’?” 

“I…um…” Kono stammered, looking to Joe for direction. 

“Commander, Officer Kalakaua is a civilian police liaison. She can call you whatever she wants,” Joe corrected firmly. 

“Oh. Not Navy then. You’re like Detective Williams?” 

“Yes,” Kono nodded.

“Sorry I snapped at you.” 

“It’s okay. I’ve actually kinda missed you being a bear,” Kono sniffled. 

“Have we worked together before?” Steve asked. 

“For years. Is your memory starting to come back to you?” Kono hoped. Steve’s brow furrowed in reply. 

“I guess. Yes. Some things. Bits and pieces. I must have rung my bell pretty hard on the last mission.”

“Pretty hard,” Kono agreed uncomfortably. 

“I’ll have to get myself checked over once we’re back to base. Nothing seems to be settling right in my head.”

“I’ll bet!” Kono agreed. 

“You don’t have to be quite so emphatic,” Steve rumbled, the hint of a smile starting to appear. “Can I ask? I am married, right?” he checked. 

Kono gave a bark of amusement. 

“Yeah.”

“What’s she like? My wife? I can’t place her face.” 

“Danny didn’t explain all this to you?” Kono said, eyes hunting around for Williams, because this was better left up to him to explain surely. 

“Movement,” Danny reported. The four of them hunkered down into the undergrowth, and stopped their chatter at once. Joe silently pulled a scope from a pocket, and peered out into the wet night. 

“Friendlies,” Joe reported with a sigh of relief. 

Ensign James and another soldier were visible as silhouettes at the top of the next ridge. James gave one brief flash with a light in his hand. Joe signaled back two flashes. James and the other soldier disappeared again. 

“Where are the others?” Danny wondered. Joe was peering through his scope again. 

“We can’t see them, but they’re around. Be sure of it,” Joe assured him grimly. 

The four of them struggled to reach the top of the next ridge. The continuing drizzle was annoying enough, but combined with the chill in the air and the darkness, it was making their night miserable. The ground was starting to get slippery as well. Danny thought to himself that this kind of trek was probably considered a delightful weekend excursion for the Navy SEALs. 

Steve was moving slowly. Danny fell back, walking in step with him. When Steve stumbled on the wet leaves, Danny reached out an arm to steady him. 

“Thanks,” McGarrett whispered. 

“Lean on me,” Danny offered. 

“I’m a little unsteady,” the Commander admitted. 

“You’re tired. That’s all. You’ll be good as new once you get some rest.” 

Joe’s radio squawked at him. 

“Commander White? Are you in position?” 

It was Captain Spaulding’s voice. Danny thought he detected a rhythmic thumping in the background over the radio link, and also out in the distance in the wilderness. 

“Just about there, Captain,” Joe answered. 

A sudden, unholy burst of light echoed around the four of them, and the sound of gunfire rang through the night. 

“Take cover!” Kono yelled. 

Both Kono and Danny threw themselves on top of Steve, hauling him bodily behind the nearest large tree. Joe barked in pain, and followed them. In the spotlights which rolled around in search of them, Danny could see that Joe had taken a bullet in the shoulder, and he had dropped his radio. Captain Spaulding’s voice was transmitting. Blood was glistening down his arm in a steady trickle. 

“Ensign!? Lay down a line of suppressing fire so Commander White and the others can make it into the clearing!” 

“Where are they firing from?” came back Ensign James’ reply. 

“There they are!” 

Shots whizzed past Danny as he darted out, grabbed the radio, and raced back. Steve was hauling Joe up, pulling his opposite arm over his shoulders to support him, which was pretty ironic considering McGarrett was having trouble supporting himself! Was it Danny’s imagination, or was the rhythmic thumping getting louder? 

“Why are they firing at us?” Kono demanded to know. 

“Steve,” Joe grunted. 

“What about him? Who is Steve?” McGarrett asked. 

“You can bet your ass I’m going to have a nice long chat with that Admiral Caldwell from Pearl when we get back to base,” White grumbled. 

Danny peered out around the tree, and nearly lost his nose. Gunshots rang out from behind them, aimed at the far ridge. One of the spotlights there died with a fizzle and hiss. 

“We need to get over the hill and down,” Joe instructed between clenched teeth. McGarrett tried to lift Joe, and couldn’t. “I’m good to walk. Let’s just hurry,” he insisted. 

“Go,” Danny growled. He leapt out, and started firing at the other spotlight, hoping he might strike whoever was holding it. Joe and Steve started up the hill, pushing and shoving each other along. Kono and Danny were climbing backwards, firing into the night, dodging flying bullets and raindrops as the precipitation picked the worst possible time to let loose. 

McGarrett and White reached the top of the hill and slid down over, vanishing from sight. Steve landed flat on his butt, sliding through a heap of wet leaves. Ensign James popped into view, rifle in hand, and grabbed Kono’s hand, patting her back, pushing her down to safety. The other soldier grinned at Danny, pulled him up over the ridge, and shoved him down to the ground. She and Ensign James laid down more fire to the opposite hill, and then slid down with the others. 

Danny froze when another spotlight lit up their position, but relaxed the very next second. He could hear helicopter blades whipping the air – the rhythmic thumping. A sweet-looking bird was hovering close, two rotors whirling, one back one front. It was attempting to settle down on a patch of ground between the trees. It couldn’t have been called a clearing by any stretch of the imagination. More of a dinner-plate sized space between the ancient trees and the small lake at the bottom of the hill. The gray and black helicopter spun around and levelled out. They were going to have to get on without landing, Danny was sure of it. He could hear Captain Spaulding’s voice over Joe’s radio.

“Heads up, Ensign! You and Capizzi hold the top while I get the passengers on board. Don’t let those bastards light us up when we get airborne.”

“Yes, sir!” Ensign James yelled back. Danny assumed Capizzi must have been the other soldier with James. “CC? You got ‘em?” 

“Affirmative,” she replied, levelling her rifle and taking out the other spotlight. 

Spaulding touched down with a thump, and the side door of her copter jerked open. Danny almost burst into tears when he saw the Navy medical team drop out onto the ground and run for their position. They swarmed around Joe and Steve, and pulled them up onto the bird. He was sure he spotted at least one familiar face among the three women who were circled around Steve, while another team of three tended to Joe and his bullet wound. 

“Ensign!?”

“We’re fine! Get outta here!” James responded back to Spaulding. 

“You two hold this position! Second bird is on the way!” Spaulding shouted over the radio link. Kono pushed Danny up into the chopper, patted his leg, and closed the door. Before Danny could protest, and reopen the door, the lead nurse grabbed him bodily and moved him out of her path. 

“Move it or lose it, solder!” the lead nurse scowled in the darkness before the lights on the helicopter kicked in. 

“Tank! I could kiss you!” Danny answered. The stout, sturdy woman stopped in her tracks, and came down out of The Zone where the soldiers seemed to go when they were concentrating on their mission and only their mission. Tank recognized Williams’ face, and a serious smile fleeted through her scrunched features. 

“Good to see you too, Detective Williams. Now get your butt out of my way,” she ordered sternly. Just as quickly, she turned her focus back to Spaulding. “Captain! Get us out of here!” 

Gunfire struck the side of the door. Metallic pinging and plinking made Danny jump back. The sound was headed towards the rear rotor. 

“Can you handle an M60?” Spaulding demanded as Danny as he stumbled forward into the cockpit and into the co-pilot’s seat. 

“If it’s a choice between drive or shoot, you’d better let me shoot,” Danny replied. 

Mid-maneuver, Spaulding took one hand off the controls long enough to push a huge rifle into Williams’ grip. Then she yanked hold of the controls again and whirled the helicopter skyward. She focused the underbelly lights on the opposite ridge, and lit up at least four figures. 

Danny got into position, pushed the business end of the M60 out of the cockpit, and tensed for the recoil as he clenched a finger on the trigger. The bird rocked as he fired. Danny glanced back over one shoulder to tell Spaulding to hold the helicopter steady, and that’s when he saw a second helicopter pop up over the next ridge, lights bright through the falling rain. 

“The cavalry is here!” Spaulding shouted over the com link. 

“Affirmative!” came the response. 

“Go, Captain! Go!” Ensign James interjected. 

Spaulding maneuvered her heavy Chinook higher into the air, and the second helicopter sped past beneath them. Danny pulled his rifle back inside, and watched the four figures on the opposite hill disappear down into the woods. 

“You’re not half bad with that,” the captain smiled as Danny handed her back the rifle. 

“Thanks,” Williams replied. He buckled himself in, and watched over his shoulder as Tank and her nurses took care of Joe and Steve. 

“I’m….um….not very good with needles,” McGarrett murmured unsurely.


	17. The Room at Queens Medical

Danny couldn’t count the number of times he had found himself striding through the halls of a hospital ward, looking for Steve McGarrett. The fact that he was doing so now brought a nostalgic smile to his worn face. He knew he had spotted the right room when he turned the next corner. There were two armed guards and a cadre of nurses buzzing around in the hallway. Chin Ho Kelly was busy chewing out Kono Kalakaua, dressing her down for not getting in the first evacuation helicopter, but waiting for the second one. Danny had already gotten his chewing out from Chin when they had first touched back down in Hawaii. He still had teeth marks in his butt. 

Considering the fact that Navy personnel had been attempting to kill McGarrett even up to the last minute in the Angeles National Forest, a compromise had to be reached when they returned to Hawaii. Danny put his foot down and demanded that Steve was going to be cared for by civilians at Queens Medical Center instead of at Tripler on the base. With the exception of Captain Brenna Karlsen. Mainly that was because Tank had refused to relinquish Steve to anyone else’s care. Luckily, she and the doctor in charge of Steve’s care were of like mind when it came to the Commander. 

The highest ranking officer who had accompanied the Navy personnel from Pearl-Hickam to Los Angeles Base to search for Commander McGarrett had claimed he had no prior knowledge of the actions which the rogue search teams had taken. Obviously if Joe White and Captain Spaulding hadn’t convinced the Air Force personnel to join in the search, and to lend two helicopters to the cause, that Steve and Danny would have died out there. Needless to say, heads were gonna roll over this situation. Although he couldn’t prove it, Joe was convinced that Admiral Caldwell had been one of the original Navy Brass who had given Dr. Handler permission to acquire Navy personnel for her experiments, and who had supplied her with unlimited funds for her research. An investigation into the root of her finances should answer that question in time. Joe speculated that by sending in hand-picked personnel loyal to himself, on a mission to seek and destroy McGarrett, Caldwell was hoping to cover his own butt. Considering everything that had happened to him in the interim, and considering his current mental state, it was highly unlikely that Steve would recall Caldwell’s face from that initial meeting so long ago. The admiral had decided he couldn’t take the risk. Now he was facing criminal charges and a court martial. 

The two things that Admiral Caldwell had not counted on were Joe White’s determination to save Steve’s life, and Captain Spaulding’s piloting abilities. Three things, actually. Admiral Caldwell had also not counted on the head nurse at Pearl being well acquainted with the person in danger, and damned fond of him to boot. Tank was willing to put her formidable self between Steve McGarrett and Admiral Caldwell. Danny remembered from previous experience that Captain Karlsen was not a person you crossed. 

“It’ll take time, that’s all. He’s weaker on his left side than his right side. But I have no doubt that he will improve,” Tank was saying as she and the civilian doctor emerged from the room and closed the door. 

“I agree completely. You coordinate the physical rehab, and I’ll get him set up with a good therapist. That, too, is going to take time.” 

“Dr. Weimer? Captain Karlsen?” Danny said, nodding a quick hello to Chin and Kono, who stopped arguing long enough to give Danny a brief hug. 

“Detective Williams? Good to see you,” Dr. Weimer smiled. 

“How is he?” Danny asked, politely parting the two women in order to peer through the window in the door. 

“We had to sedate him to perform the physical examination,” Tank relayed. 

“He was less than receptive to the idea. It took a great deal of persuasion. We finally had to slip him a mickey in a bottle of water. And I feel like shit for having tricked him, just so you know. Would you like a complete explanation of his condition, or would you rather have a brief sum-up?” Dr. Weimer asked. 

“Is he asleep?” Danny asked. Steve was lying on his side on the single bed in the room, an arm curled close to his chest. His eyes were closed, but he was whispering softly to himself. Danny decided that was probably not a good sign.

“He should be groggy and lethargic for several hours,” Tank warned. 

“Can I take him home?” Danny squeaked, hating that his voice betrayed the tremor in his heart. 

“I would advise against it for tonight,” Dr. Weimer replied. “He needs time to acclimate.”

“He doesn’t like doctors, and not without reason,” Danny replied. 

“He doesn’t like needles, and he’s terrified of white jackets. As you can imagine, that put a big damper in our relationship,” Weimer murmured dryly. One of the hospital nurses handed her a lab coat, which she slid onto her arms while murmuring her thanks. 

“By the way, who is Milo?” Tank wondered. 

Danny sighed heavily, hanging his head. Steve must have reverted back to James Geist, he decided. The trauma of being surrounded by medical personnel who wanted to poke and prod at him, all these strangers looming over him – it must have sent Steve spiraling back into the persona of the man he had been when Agent Vandervries had found him. Four days ago? It didn’t seem at all real yet to Danny, so surely it wasn’t any more real to Steve either. 

Danny was second-guessing leaving Steve alone, even for a minute, but he trusted Tank, and he trusted Dr. Weimer, and they had a cadre of nurses, and armed guards standing watch. Not to mention having Chin and Kono as well. Steve was physically safe here, and Danny had wanted to say goodbye and thank you to Captain Spaulding and Ensign James in person. 

Williams had sent the captain and the ensign off from Honolulu International Airport not thirty minutes ago. Arms filled with hugs, and necks filled with leis, and hearts filled with gratitude. Not to mention giving them more macadamia nuts than they could eat in a decade. He had not let them go without a firm promise that they would come visit soon. The captain and the ensign were headed back to Los Angeles Base to retrieve the Hercules cargo plane, which was desperately in need of repairs. From there, they would head to Colorado Springs, where they were supposed to fly back to Washington. 

“The physical damage isn’t nearly as extensive as I feared at first,” Dr. Weimer interjected in the silence. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s got issues. Not the least of which is being underweight for his height, and the lingering damage from the car crash where they abducted him.”

“Not to mention whatever the hell she was doing inside his skull,” Tank grumbled. 

“Once we’ve studied the CAT scans, we’ll have a better idea.”

“Gonna ring that woman’s neck if I ever see her,” Tank growled. 

“She’s in New York,” Danny offered hopefully. 

“Oh, no, you haven’t heard the latest,” Chin interjected from behind. Danny whirled around. 

“The Navy argued successfully that Dr. Handler should be brought back to Hawaii to stand trial,” Kono snapped. “The federal government agreed. The NYPD had no choice but to release her to the Navy’s custody.” 

“Max and Dutch are on their way back as well. Hope to be here by tomorrow morning,” Chin reported. 

“Why is the Navy bringing her here instead of prosecuting her in New York?” Danny wondered. 

“Because the original kidnapping happened here. And because they keep repeating that she has the right to face her accuser,” Chin grumbled. 

“I don’t fucking think so!” Danny barked, face turning scarlet with rage. “I’ll put a bullet in her myself before I let her in the room with Steve ever again!” 

“I believe it would be traumatic and devastating for Commander McGarrett to have to face her,” Dr. Weimer tisked. 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Tank muttered. 

“I know you don’t want me to take him home tonight, but can I talk to him?” Danny hoped. 

“With the caveat that he’s groggy, and exhausted, so don’t take it personally if he’s not the best conversationalist,” Dr. Weimer tried out a tiny, tired smile.

“Understood,” Danny nodded. “Hey, by the way, where’s Joe?” he asked Chin and Kono.

“He went to go collect someone at the airport,” Kono replied. 

“Well, shit, if he had told me who to collect, I could have saved him the trouble,” Danny chuckled. “Cover me. I’m going in,” he whispered, turning the doorknob.


	18. The Man in the Room

“Hello, babe.” 

Danny murmured the words while stroking one hand gingerly through Steve’s hair, pushing errant strands out of his eyes. 

McGarrett yelped, fumbling up and away the uninvited touch. He had his back to the wall, knees to his chest, hands pushing the intrusion into his space away.

Williams sat down on the edge of the bed, putting a hand on one of Steve’s bare feet. Danny was having flashbacks to the final confrontation with Wo Fat, finding his friend in that dank, horrible dungeon. McGarrett certainly had a similar, spacey expression in his eyes. 

“It’s all right. Do you remember me? Do you remember who I am?” Danny ventured carefully closer. 

“Fireman,” Steve mumbled. 

“That’s it. That’s me,” Danny found a tentative smile. He rubbed Steve’s right shoulder. “Do you know where we are?” 

“Hospital,” McGarrett shuddered, drawing his arms closer around himself. 

“We’re home,” Danny said, motioning out the window at the far end of the room, where the most perfect sunset was displaying brilliant reds and oranges and wild yellows. 

McGarrett snorted and looked very cross. “Home?”

“Hawaii. We’re back in Hawaii,” Danny promised. 

“Lies. All of it.” 

“Not lies. Doesn't it look at all familiar?” 

"Want to trick me."

"No, I don't, babe," Danny promised. 

“You won’t….keep me….here….for long. I will escape.” 

Danny blinked, turning his attention away from the sunset and back to the man on the bed. 

“It won’t….it won’t…..matter…..what you….do to me….” 

“Steve?” Danny breathed inaudibly. 

“I will escape,” McGarrett hissed. 

Williams fumbled backwards off the bed onto the floor with a shout of alarm. There was a feral animal on his chest, eyes flashing, teeth bared. Danny smacked his head on the tiles, arms flailing as he was dragged to a standing position. There was something sharp at his neck. Was that a pen? He remembered too late that he had had a pen in his jacket pocket. Had the end of it peeked out far enough that Steve had seen it? Was this Steve? 

“Move,” the creature snarled. So he clearly hadn’t been as groggy as they had believed! Three years of a steady supply of sedatives might make a guy develop a high level of tolerance for small doses of said sedatives, Danny's surprised brain was reasoning. Why hadn't Dr. Weimer or Tank anticipated that?

“Steve? Steve! It’s me! It’s Danny!”

“Danny’s dead. All dead. Everyone’s dead,” Steve rambled, snarling as he dragged Danny to the door of the room. “Open it!!!” he bellowed, voice like a foghorn. 

“I’m not dead. I’m Danny. I’m not….Steve? Who told you I was dead?” 

“Libby….” Steve growled the name with distaste. Danny had a happy thought that all he needed to do was put this Steve in the room with Libby, and their problems would all be solved. 

The hospital room door swung open, and several weapons were pointed directly at both of them. 

“Put those away!” Williams shouted at the guards. Chin and Kono were both doing their best to reason with the man holding Danny by the arm with a pen stuffed tight against his jugular vein. Their words were lost in the chaos as a nurse at the station at the other end of the hall pulled the alarm.

"STEVE!"

"BOSS? LET DANNY GO!" 

“Nice and slow. Nice and slow,” Steve hissed, dragging Williams backwards. 

“Commander McGarrett!? What are you doing?!” Tank yelled, surging forward. Danny’s knees went weak as the man quaked, and considered her words. He threw the pen down. It was tipped with blood. He pulled Danny slowly backwards down the hall, around the corner. Steve stumbled against the wall, and stared at Danny in surreal indecision. He wasn’t believing what he was seeing, and given all that had happened to him, that wasn’t a surprise. 

A platoon of feet was rushing their direction. Danny took Steve’s hand, and pulled him running. More guards popped out of the opening elevator, weapons drawn.

"Shit!" Danny howled, pushing open the door to the stairs with a crash and bang. 

Steve was not a graceful being. He practically tumbled down several flights, banging into walls, holding tight to Danny's hand. They weren’t even out of the hospital before Danny’s phone was ringing.

“Now is not the time!” Williams yelled. He headed for the Camaro, parked neatly in the circle. He opened the passenger door and shoved Steve inside, and clambered over the top of him in order to climb into the drivers’ seat. Steve had had the same thought at the same time. Danny found himself sitting on Steve’s lap when he went to grab the wheel and put his feet on the pedals.

“Get off of me!” Steve ordered. 

“You haven’t driven in more than three years!” Danny bellowed back. 

As if to prove a point, Steve turned the key, revved the engine, and took off with Danny still in his lap. And the passenger door hanging wide open. Danny fumbled into the passenger seat, yanked the door shut, and turned to grab Steve’s seatbelt for him. 

McGarrett was on the highway with a wild, wide whip to the left, leaving rubber and smoke behind. 

“Where are we going? Where are we going, Steve? Talk to me!” Williams demanded. His phone was bleating for attention. He ignored it. 

Sirens were wailing behind them as two cop cars came in from intersecting streets, and picked up their scent right away. Steve hit the gas, eyes focused forward, narrowed to dangerous slits. He glanced at the rearview mirror, and then sideways at Danny. 

“I know you’re an illusion.” 

“I’m not an illusion. I’m Danny.”

“No. Lies. All lies.” 

“Where are we going, Steve?” Danny wailed, bracing himself against the dash and the side door. McGarrett didn’t answer. Danny tried to organize his thoughts and figure out from the road that they were taking where Steve might be headed. There were too many possibilities. He couldn’t decide between them. His mind was spinning. 

Danny glanced into the side view mirror. There were at least four cop cars following them now, plus two small red cars winding in through traffic and coming up the middle. Traffic was parting around the Camaro like waves from the prow of a ship. Chin and Kono were closer than any other cars in pursuit. 

“Steve, where are we going?” Danny asked, putting a hand on his nearest arm. 

“…home…” Steve croaked in reply. 

“Okay. Okay. Slow down. It’s all right. Listen to me. Slow down. We’ll get there. Okay?” Danny soothed. 

“Dead. She told me you were dead,” Steve rambled. There were tears in his wild eyes. 

“I’m not dead. Yet!” Danny screamed as they narrowly made it in the space between the two cop cars which appeared out of nowhere and sought to close the road before them. Steve swerved right then left, then straightened the car out once more. 

Danny pulled out his phone, and Steve landed hateful eyes on him. 

“Who are you calling?” 

“What?” Danny gulped. 

“Libby?”

“No. I’m calling Chin before he has a panic attack, and you’re going to slow down. Understood? Slow the fuck down before we both shoot through the windshield.” 

“DANNY?!” Chin responded before the first ring completed. 

“Call them all off! I’m all right!” Danny shouted. 

“Where is he taking you?” 

“Home.”

Steve grabbed the phone and threw it out the driver’s window. Hit the gas and rounded a corner on two wheels. Danny was torn between laughter and vomit. Not an easy place to find purchase. But it was so familiar that he ached. 

They rounded the street corner, and plunged into McGarrett’s driveway before Danny could draw in a breath to scream out in alarm. The Camaro lost its front bumper as they crashed into the garage door. Wood splintered everywhere. There was a horrible metal on metal grinding noise as Williams yanked the emergency brake. The grill of the Marquis went sailing up into the air, and landed on the hood of the Camaro as they came to a shocking stop.

Steve latched a hand onto Danny’s shirt front, and hauled him bodily through the wreckage of two cars and the garage door. Before they reached the door which led into the house, it whipped open. 

“DANNO! UNCLE STEVE!”

McGarrett came to screeching halt, and Williams stopped at his side. Grace stood in the doorway, her face round with surprise. She leapt forward the next second, latching her arms around both of them. Steve was effectively neutralized by the hug. Not just by the hug, but by the person hugging him. The sobbing, delirious, happy sixteen-year-old with long, dark hair jolted him hard enough that he had to take a moment to process what he was seeing, who he was seeing. 

“Grace?” Steve questioned hoarsely. 

“You remembered me?” Danny’s daughter’s face brightened even more happily. She plastered Steve’s face with kisses, and turned to place several on Danny as well. Steve’s eyes slid sideways nervously to the man at his right. 

“Not dreaming?” he checked unsurely.

Danny smirked and shook his head no. 

“Welcome home, Animal.”


	19. The Boat

“Given the way he feels about medical personnel, would it be out of the question for you two to teach me a few basic procedures?” Danny asked without a single hint of irony. 

Dr. Weimer and Captain Karlsen stood on the back porch of the McGarrett residence, holding an array of clipboards, stethoscopes, probes, and printed x-rays in a large brown packet. The doctor and the nurse looked at each other, then at Danny, nodding in unison. 

“That would seem to be a prudent suggestion,” Dr. Weimer added. 

“I’d hate to have to knock Steve out every time we need to examine him,” Tank remarked wistfully. 

“How is your neck?” Dr. Weimer asked. 

“Fine,” Danny murmured, touching the spot where Steve had jabbed him with the pen. “Fine-point,” he chuckled a second later. “Sorry, bad humor. I just… yeah. I’m fine. Let me talk to him first, okay? Wait here.”

Danny exited the back porch, treading carefully along the grass to where Steve was sitting. McGarrett was staring off over the water, bare toes buried in the warm sand at the edge of the grass. Birds whirled overhead. Grace sat beside Steve, holding his hand, chatting to him non-stop. She was holding up her cell phone, sliding through pictures she had on the device. 

A quick glance backwards to one side of the house showed an armed guard peering around. Danny could tell at a glance that he was HPD. Danny darted his gaze to the other side of the house. Another guard stood there. He wasn’t surprised, considering the way Steve had stormed out of the hospital with Danny in tow, and then raced across town at hell-bent speeds, crashing into their own house. Wrecking both cars in the process. Danny was going to be arguing with the insurance company for days about that mess, he was sure of it! Chin was handling the excitement at Queens Medical Center, soothing ruffled feathers there while Kono was corralling the police and military personnel massing outside the front of the house. 

Williams spotted a familiar truck approaching slowly along Piikoi. It was slowing down for the HPD officer who was standing at the end of the street. Joe White had made it back from the airport in one piece. He hadn’t even come to a stop in the driveway before Mary McGarrett jumped out of the vehicle and crashed through the front door of the house. 

“STEVE!?” Mary wailed. “STEVE?!” 

Grace stood up in a hurry, because she had heard the screams. Danny dodged aside as the screen door banged open. Mary flew past him like a screaming banshee with a spectral trail. Steve’s sister was crying hard, face a mess, as she tackled her brother in the sand. She nearly pushed him all the way to the water with her hug. Arms up around his neck, face pressed to his chest, sobbing his name, and curse words, and his name again. Grace blinked at Danny. He couldn’t decide if she wanted to laugh or not.

“It’s you! It’s really you! I was…oh my God, Steven! I didn’t know what to do without you! And Joanie!?” 

Mary held tight to her brother, alternating between shaking him, hugging him, kissing his cheek, and clubbing him in the ear. By the time she calmed down enough to stop manhandling him, Danny had prowled carefully over. He stood shyly off to one side, watching Mary dry her face, leaving streaks of mascara. 

Steve turned a confused face to Danny. He was rubbing his ring finger on his left hand, and glancing at Mary meaningfully. Danny laughed out loud, giddy with joy and mischief. 

“Steve, wasn’t it nice of _your sister Mary_ to fly all this way to see you? Make sure you’re okay?” Danny said emphatically. 

“Are you okay? Big stupid lug,” Mary sniffed, hugging him tightly again. 

“Sister,” Steve nodded. “Whew. Okay. I’m okay. I think I dreamed about you. You used to have pink pigtails.” 

“Jesus, Steve. How fucked up are you? I haven’t had pink hair since the 80’s,” Mary responded gruffly. 

Steve squinted at Mary, and endured another hug. Apparently he would have to take her word for it. 

“You’re so thin. Come inside. I’ll make you a sandwich. No, fuck the sandwich. I'll make you something special. I'll make you chicken tagine. Do you remember that? That's what you made for me, the last time I visited. I'll make that for you. And you?! Goddamn it, Danny Williams! You couldn’t pick up the phone and tell me you found my brother!? You had to wait almost a goddamn week?” Mary howled, taking a swing at Danny. 

Williams had two sisters of his own, and thus had acquired at an early age the necessary sibling battle senses which warned him well in advance of a likely punch or smack. He was already darting over to Steve’s other side, looping an arm around his forearm, and hugging Grace to bring her back into the house. 

Mary was a whirlwind downstairs in the kitchen. Danny could hear her opening and closing cabinets, rooting around in the fridge, shouting, banging pots and pans, and making all kinds of racket. Grace was downstairs with her. Partly to keep an eye on her, partly to act as a calming influence, and also to give Danny a chance to talk to Steve alone. Danny wasn’t sure where Dr. Weimer and Tank had gone. Perhaps they were waiting in the living room, sitting on the couch, and chatting casually about what a complete mess the entire situation was. Joe was pacing at the bottom of the steps, every once in a while glancing up to catch a glimpse of Danny pacing in front of the master bedroom door. 

Steve stood at the side of the bed. He counted pillows (three), and ran a hand over the side, smoothing a wrinkle out of the coverlet. 

“I know,” Danny interjected into the silence. “Freaking pineapples. Don’t blame me. That wasn’t my idea.”

“Oh,” Steve commented softly. He looked confused. He sat down on the end of the bed, and quickly stood back up again. Should he not sit there? Should he not sit at all? Danny guided Steve back down on the bed. Williams paced, doing his best to block the view of the small bookcase beside the door. Several pictures were there, intimate family pictures of himself and Steve, the team, and their extended Ohana of friends. Mary called out, and they both winced guiltily, as though they were doing something wrong. 

“GODDAMN IT, DANNY! WHERE IS THE CINNAMON?!”

A few seconds later, Mary called out again sheepishly. 

“Nevermind.”

"She's so loud...." Steve winced. “I keep seeing flashes of someone small, someone yelling at me all the time,” Steve squinted, moving his hands as he spoke. 

“Yep,” Danny nodded, shyly rubbing the back of his neck, and then smoothing his hair on both sides. He turned several pictures face-down on the bookcase, but picked up one, holding it close to his chest. Steve shivered nervously as Danny slowly eased down beside him. 

“You have a very nice house,” Steve commented shyly. Danny tilted his head, and squinted back at him. “It’s cozy, and colorful, and inviting.” 

“Steve, it’s your home. Don’t you remember?” 

“No.”

“Steve? You brought me here. We were at the hospital, and we left in kind of a hurry. About two hours ago? You said you were taking me home. And here we are.”

“Home?” 

“Home,” Danny confirmed, inching slightly closer. Steve tucked his hands between his knees and tilted his long feet up, resting his heels on the railing on the side of the bed, and keeping his toes on the floor. 

“Home,” he repeated softly. He bowed his head and looked even more confused.

“What do you remember about the last few days?” Danny asked. 

Steve folded his arms across his chest, and rubbed his left elbow with his right hand. Jim Geist had done that when he was in the interrogation room in New York City, when he had been holding and talking to Milo the imaginary cat. Danny wondered if that’s what was going through Steve’s mind too. 

“I have cognitive issues,” McGarrett explained, ashamed. 

“I know,” Danny soothed. “There’s a doctor and a nurse both downstairs, at least I think they’re down there, and they’re both very concerned that we find out what’s wrong with you, and how we can help you.”

“Okay.”

“I know you don’t like doctors.” 

“I don’t like doctors,” Steve confirmed. 

“But these two ladies, they are not going to hurt you. They’ve treated you before. They like you very much. You can trust them, all right? You can trust them like you trust me.” 

“Who says I trust you?” Steve snorted, eyes darting sideways at Danny. 

“How about if I let them do everything to me that they want to do to you? Blood tests. CAT scans. The whole nine yards. I’ll go first, and then you go after me. How does that sound?” 

“Maybe,” Steve hedged. 

“Do you remember being in the forest?” Danny wondered. 

“Somewhat…” Steve shrugged. 

“Do you remember being on the plane?” 

“I have blackouts some times. I wake up in different places. It’s happened before.” 

“You have blackouts? That’s good to know,” Danny whispered. “That’s very helpful, Steve. Tell me more.” 

“Are you going to tell Libby?" McGarrett worried. 

"No," Danny promised earnestly. 

"Are you working for her?” McGarrett worried. “She’s done this before.”

“Done what before?”

“There were other people. They would visit me, in the hospital, and at the apartment. They would tell me all about myself. They had pictures. They told me stories. For hours and hours. They were very convincing.”

Danny put the picture he was holding face-down on the bed, and took one of Steve’s hands into both of his. 

“Babe? I know that you’ve been through hell and back again, and I’m sorry for what happened to you. So sorry. That must have been very confusing. I....I would give anything to make that all go away for you.” 

“Don’t worry. Hang out a few days. I'm bound to forget all about it,” Steve joked uncomfortably. 

“DANNY!? WHERE’S THE GODDAMN IRON SKILLET? BIG, BLACK, IRON….OH. Nevermind.” 

Steve and Danny both cringed, closing their eyes. 

“Does she yell like that all the time?” Steve fretted.

“You and Mary are two peas in a pod. You both were born without a filter between your brain and your mouth. I bet you were hell on wheels when you were kids.” 

“Who is Joanie?” 

“Mary’s daughter. She must have left her with Aunt Deb.” 

“Who is Aunt Deb?” 

“Your Aunt Deb. I’ll tell you all about everyone and everything, if you give me a chance. I don't want to overwhelm you.” 

“I don’t know what to believe. I have these bits and pieces. And I don’t know if those are real, or if they're dreams, or illusions, hallucinations. Like you were.” 

“Steve, I’m not an illusion. I promise.” 

Danny lifted Steve’s hand and kissed it, holding it against his chest. He scooted close enough to Steve that he could slide an arm around his waist. McGarrett tilted his head against Danny’s head on his left shoulder. Danny lied to himself, tried to convince himself that Steve wasn’t shaking. But he was trembling, Williams decided. Danny turned to the right, rubbing his nose against Steve’s neck, feeling his warm skin, his thumping pulse. 

“If I do anything that upsets you, you let me know, and I’ll stop. Do you understand?” Danny whispered, nuzzling a tender kiss to the hollow of Steve’s throat, feeling McGarrett’s Adam’s Apple dip as he swallowed. His heartrate sped up, and his breathing became audible. Steve did nod though. 

McGarrett melted back against the horrible pineapple coverlet, the one that Danny hated with a passion, and yet could never part with, even long after he feared that Steve was never coming home ever again. Danny maneuvered carefully around, nosing tender kisses along Steve’s jaw, rubbing noses with him before sinking in for an easy kiss. Steve moaned deep in his chest, hands sliding up Danny’s ribs, around his back. He opened his mouth as if he had done this a thousand times before. Danny slid his tongue slowly inside, almost in tears as Steve moaned again appreciatively. McGarrett broke away from the kiss unexpectedly though. 

“Um…stop?” 

McGarrett lifted Danny up, setting him aside. He pulled himself upright, and hung closer to the end of the bed post. He was panting, fingertips against his lips. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Steve whispered in shame.

Danny reached for the picture face-down on the bed. “Um, Steve? There’s something I need to tell you.” 

“I’m married,” Steve said anxiously. 

“So am I,” Danny replied. 

“All the more reason we shouldn’t be messing around. What?" Steve said as he watched the grin on Danny’s face broaden. 

“Remember in the forest, when I asked what sort of person you might go for, and you said…well, if I recall correctly, you said someone like me? Because we fit together. Because we felt right together.” 

“That’s beside the point,” Steve grimaced. “My gosh. Don’t get me wrong. You’re… you’re so…. I’d do you in heartbeat. We’d be awesome together. I haven’t felt like this about someone else, ever. I’m sure we would be great together. But we have to stop doing this. You’re married. I’m married. We have to stop doing this. No matter what we’re feeling. No matter how much we’re drawn to each other, it’s not right. You don’t cheat when you’re married. My mom cheated on my dad. It broke his heart. I….oh. Hey! My parents! I think I remember their faces! I think those are my parents. Maybe? What?” 

“Here,” Danny murmured, giving Steve the picture he had been hiding. 

“Wow! That is one hideous wedding cake!” Steve exclaimed. 

McGarrett blinked at himself and Danny in matching tuxes, feeding each other. Exactly one piece was cut out of the cake in the picture. The cake in question had been filled with pineapple-flavored fluff, stuffed with tiny bites of pineapple, and smothered over with a yellow-chocolate ganache. It had been a perfect, three-foot tall yellow and green and brown pineapple, complete with a tall, decorative spikey protrusion on the crown. How Danny had hated it! They had fought for days about the fact that Steve had ordered that confectionary abomination for their wedding. How in the nine circles of Hell? Ghosts of those arguments echoed in Steve’s brain. He gazed in curiosity at the picture, fingertips touching every inch of the frame. 

“I think we might have a piece of that tucked away in the freezer, actually,” Danny gargled his chipmunk laugh, the sound of which made Steve’s head tilt. Recognition fleeted through his eyes. “I was so mad at you, I almost called the whole thing off. But Ma and Dad had flown out from Jersey, and both my sisters, and all their damned kids, and Gracie…well, she had been waiting years to see us married, and I wasn’t going to break her heart. I did silently promise myself I was going to smash a ton of that cake up your nose when we were taking the cake picture. Then I chickened out. Ma was giving me this look. Strange how parents have that strong a power over you, no matter how old you are. That’s why Ma looks so irritated. She’s giving me her ‘Watch Your Step, Mister’ Death Glare. See, my dad had smashed cake into her face at their wedding, and she was determined that I was not going to do that. So I didn’t. But I should have. Cake, hell. You deserved to have a whole pineapple shoved up your nose for doing that to me.”

“Your mom? The little blonde lady over here?” Steve pointed. 

“Yeah, that’s Ma. Dad. Stella. Gloria,” Danny replied. 

“Gosh. You all look alike. You're like...wow. You look like your dad, but you’re tiny like your mom.” 

“Yeah. Fate’s been kicking my ass from Day One.” 

“We’re really married?” Steve whispered.

“You. Me. Married. Yep,” Danny confirmed.

“When exactly were you going to tell me this?” Steve demanded in a flash of anger.

“I was waiting for the right time. You needed to adjust to the idea of everything else that has happened in the last few days.”

“Being kidnapped out of my home by a band of strangers? Being dragged across country? Being chased through a huge forest by people bent on killing me?”

“That stuff,” Danny nodded, clearing his throat. “But I gotta say. You handled those people in the forest pretty darned well.” 

“Auto pilot,” Steve whispered. 

“I thought as much,” Danny agreed. 

“Did it ever occur to you that I might have felt more at ease with you if you had told me the truth earlier?” Steve said, his voice almost inaudible. 

“I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me,” Danny cringed. 

“I don’t know what to believe, to be honest,” Steve answered, lowering his voice, staring timidly at Danny now. That strange wall came down again, the one between anger and calm. 

“Well, like I said. I wanted to give you time to adjust to everything else before I sprung this on you,” Danny continued. 

“And now?” Steve whispered, eyes on the floor. 

“We'll figure this out. One day at a time. Together. Babe, I’m telling you. This thing we have. You and me? It never has been smooth sailing. I never expected that before, and I don’t expect it now. We're used to rough sailing. Like we said that day-- in sickness, health, richer, poorer, yadda yadda, all that junk. When we were done exchanging vows, you stopped the official, and said you had more to add. You had written this super corny addendum about how being married to someone is like being in a boat at sea. And then you told everyone about when you took me fishing to catch my first tuna. Do you remember that?” 

“No. Was it nice?” 

“Nice? Are you kidding me? It was a nightmare, Steven, a nightmare! From start to finish. We stopped to help this guy who was stranded. He shoved a gun in our faces. Threatened our lives. He high-jacked our boat. We got kicked off our own boat! We were stranded in the middle of the freaking ocean in a deflating dinghy, for hours and hours. Did I mention the man-eating sharks? It was so hot. The Coast Guard came along, and we thought we were saved, but they thought we were pirates, and they arrested us. I was so freaking miserable. And sunburned. I thought we were dead. I was sure we were dead. You don’t know how many times that day, I swore if I made it back to shore alive, I was going to kill you with my bare hands.” 

Steve was smiling, caressing the picture again. 

“Marriage is like being in a boat at sea, you said, with rough water, and calm water, and whatever life threw at us, we were going to weather it all. We were going to keep each other afloat for the rest of our lives. It was corny, but it was also the sweetest thing ever. I cried like a baby. And I was so mad at you. I couldn't believe you made me burst into tears in front of everyone on our wedding day. It was humiliating. I wanted to punch you in the face. But you were so adorable. Smug, but adorable. Then the pineapple cake, and you know how I feel about pineapples! How could you!? I told you that you were sleeping on the fucking couch until Doomsday, and you had the nerve to seduce me before we were even out of the lobby of the hotel in Maui. Ask me what you were wearing when we got to the room."

"What was I wearing?" Steve asked. 

"I got you into the elevator, up to the room, out of your clothes. And there they were, staring at me." 

"What?" Steve wondered. 

"You were wearing these teeny, tiny briefs with pineapples all over them," Danny laughed, drying his eyes. "You had this big goofy grin on, and those stupid briefs." 

“Why did you marry me?” 

“There were times when I couldn't live with you, but I knew in my heart that couldn’t live without you either,” Danny replied with a lump in his throat. 

Steve chuckled, giving Danny a nervous glance from under those long, beautiful lashes. 

“What I’m saying is, even when life kicks us out of our boat, I will always be by your side, keeping your afloat.” 

Steve quietly put an arm around Danny’s shoulders, and leaned their cheeks together. 

“DINNER’S READY!!” Mary screamed from the bottom of the stairs. Steve and Danny flinched apart. Danny scrambled for a handhold to keep from sliding off onto the floor. He stood up, knees wobbling. Steve reached out and pulled him back into a hug, burying his face in Danny’s chest. 

“Home,” Steve decided, holding on tight, fingers laced behind Danny's back. 

“Home,” Danny confirmed as he caressed Steve's wild hair, smoothing down the cowlicks.


	20. The Surprise Witness

Danny didn’t sleep a wink all night. But then, neither did Steve. 

Word spread fast that Steve had been found, that he was back home where he belonged. A steady stream of people made their way to the McGarrett residence. Some to stare. Some to cry. Some to offer their best wishes. Some to moan in disgust and drive away again. Not everyone was a fan of the big Navy SEAL. 

Most of the military and police personnel slowly dispersed, except for a small contingent which remained discretely on-hand, just in case the Navy decided to go full bore in taking McGarrett out once and for all. The Governor agreed that McGarrett should be granted some form of protection, and he added men from his own personal security detail to the mix. 

Dr. Weimer and Captain Karlsen did their best to examine Steve at home, as much as they could. Danny stayed by his side, upstairs in their bedroom, as the civilian doctor and the Navy head nurse went over their preliminary findings. It’s a good thing Danny was there, because New Steve had the attention span of a sleepy five-year-old. Sometimes his comprehension seemed fine, but the next second, his eyes were scanning the floor, and his hand was touching his lower leg. Danny just knew that whatever part of Steve’s brain was Jim Geist was looking for Milo again, looking for reassurance, looking for comfort because he was feeling overwhelmed. 

Dinner came and went like a great, wild party, a celebration of sorts. Mary told Steve stories about what a mean and rotten older brother he had been to her when they were kids, all the while never getting more than arm’s reach away from him. Mary dug out all the old photo albums, and flipped slowly through the pages. Steve hardly ate anything at all. 

Danny and Grace set up the guest room for Mary to spend the night. Joe and Steve began to get reacquainted downstairs, doing dishes in the kitchen. Old Steve was a Navy-bred neat freak. New Steve only added fuel to the fire. He was cleaning down counters and polishing the appliances before Joe pulled him out of the kitchen again. 

People kept popping in, friends and neighbors, visitors from all over the Island. Steve endured hugs and kisses and well-wishes for hours on end, until finally between one visitor and the next, using the excuse that he needed a bathroom break, he retreated into the downstairs pantry off the laundry room. 

It took Danny a few minutes to find him. Steve was holding his left arm in his right arm, and hiding in the dark. Danny scooted the rolls of paper towels aside, and sat down beside Steve. Slid an arm around him. Held on gently. 

“You okay, babe?” Danny whispered. Steve didn’t reply. He tucked himself against Danny and shook. He didn’t have to say a thing. Danny understood that for a guy who had been almost constantly alone for years, except for the company of his captor, tonight must have been an overwhelming and terrifying experience. Not to mention surreal. Steve had admitted earlier that he was having trouble deciding if it wasn’t all an illusion or a hallucination. 

Joe knocked at the pantry door. Danny could hear Mary’s voice outside. Could hear her feet on the tiles with Joe’s combat boots. But it was Joe who knocked. 

“Everything okay?” Joe asked through the door. Maybe White was worried what he would find if he opened the portal. 

“He needs a couple minutes,” Danny answered for Steve. Old Steve would have never allowed that. New Steve seemed perfectly okay with the idea. 

“We’ll hold position, and wait for your signal,” Joe called through the door. 

White’s boots thumped on the tiles as he herded everyone out of the laundry room hallway, out into the kitchen, telling them that Steve had had a sudden craving for energy bars, and would be back in a minute or two. Danny coaxed Steve out of the pantry, grabbing energy bars along the way. He pulled Steve onto the lanai, hoping the outside air would make him feel less confined. 

Midnight came and went. Someone smuggled a traditional Hawaiian priest into the residence and out into the backyard. The priest pulled Steve to the water’s edge, performing a ritual that no one was allowed to interrupt. Under the light of the waxing moon, it was very eerie to watch him chanting and walking around Steve, touching him with sprinkles of water and ti leaves. No one was allowed to disturb them, and that included Danny. When Steve cast terrified eyes in Danny’s direction, and Danny moved to intervene, Chin and Kono instantly latched onto Williams to keep him in place. When the cousins weren’t enough to hold Danny away, Kamekona picked Danny up and carried him into the house. Loud, terrified yelping filled the air. An undignified scuffle broke out by the water’s edge. The Hawaiian priest pulled Steve bodily into the surf, much against his will. The end result was that fully-clothed Steve got a thorough dunking in his native waters. The priest walked away with a black eye, and a bright smile of success. 

One in the morning. Two in the morning. By four, Danny couldn’t not have cared less if he offended anyone by going to bed. He told everyone he was turning in, to do whatever the hell they wanted. He had to fight to drag Steve away from a couple old Navy acquaintances who had started getting the poor man toasted on tequila shots. A man who probably had not had a drink in three years? Danny closed and locked their bedroom door, peeled Steve out of his damp clothes, and tucked them both into bed without a single word. 

By now it was nearing five. Danny had lain awake since they had turned in. Steve lay on the other pillow, staring at him in the dimness. Tiny hiccups broke the silence. In the moonbeams from the window, Danny watched Steve get out of bed. McGarrett pulled the thin curtains wide, and stared out at the water beyond the yard. The sun would be coming up soon. Danny wondered if Steve was considering a swim. Had the ritual last night cured him of his fear of water? Danny couldn’t imagine it could work that fast, but he was willing to give it a moment of consideration. 

Or perhaps Steve had opened the curtains to confirm to himself this was not a dream. Maybe he had feared that he would find a cold, gray city skyline instead of trees and birds and the ocean beyond the green grass. Steve closed the curtains, and crawled back in bed with Danny. Right up against Danny. Nose to nose with him. Both hands clutching the front of Danny’s nightshirt. Danny put his arms around Steve and rubbed his back, whispering softly to him. 

“Not a dream. Really here.” 

Headlights touched the ceiling and ran like water down the wall. A car pulled into the driveway. Steve bolted upright in terror. There were voices downstairs. Mary was awake. There was a soft knock at the bedroom door. Danny got up to open it. It wasn’t Mary after all. 

“Forgive me, Detective. I did not mean to intrude on your privacy. We will wait downstairs for you to get dressed. My apologies.” 

“Max? No, no. It’s okay. Hey. No,” Danny said, latching a hug around Dr. Bergman whether he wanted it or not.

“We will wait downstairs,” Max repeated, retreating from the hug, but not without a glance at Steve behind Danny. 

They were dressed and downstairs in under ten minutes. Max had a laptop set up on the dining room table. He was pacing back and forth, waiting anxiously for Danny and Steve to appear. Joe and Mary hung closely around. Dutch was leafing through a folder, lurking in the U of the kitchen, leaning on the fridge. 

When Danny and Steve appeared, Agent Vandervries grinned at them, and pushed the folder into Williams’ hands. 

“How was New York?” Danny asked, closing the folder and holding it against his chest. 

“I was able to locate several interviewees who did not get the job as lab assistant for …for She Who Will Remain Unnamed,” Dutch replied. “There are two more here in Hawaii that I need to speak with. I would like your help with that, later today, if you’d like?” 

“At your service,” Danny promised. “I can’t think you enough for what you’ve done, Dutch.” 

“Sure you can, Detective Williams. Help me nail this woman. She’s already trying to worm out of this, and I’m not going to let that happen.”

“What is it?” Danny asked. 

“She’s been moved from the lock-up to the hospital. Claiming she’s having chest pains and migraine headaches. It’s a ploy for sympathy. That’s all.” 

“Anything we can do,” Danny promised. “What’s this all about?” he asked, motioning to the laptop that Max was nudging and adjusting and readjusting. 

“While we were interviewing the other residents of the high-rise, I made a very important discovery,” Max revealed. His eyes were all over McGarrett. 

“You’d better sit down,” Joe suggested, pushing a chair in behind Steve’s knees. 

“Did any of them have any idea what was going on?” Danny wondered, arms crossed over his chest in annoyance. 

“Perhaps it’s a testament to the truth that we know very little about our neighbors,” Bergman answered. “No, Detective Williams. No one that we spoke with had any idea that anything untoward was going on. But that’s not to say that the interviews were not without merit.” 

“In what manner, Max? Get to the point.”

“Mrs. Beatrice Shaw. Ground floor apartment, north-east side of the building.”

“The same as…..”

“Yes. She is temporarily living with her sister across the street, while repairs are being made to the apartment complex.” 

"What about her?” 

“Cat fancier,” Max replied. 

Danny was hooked. He waited patiently for the punchline. 

“From time to time, when the front door is opened, her feline companions will take advantage of the fortuitous opportunity to prowl.”

Dread filled Danny’s heart. Max had no clue. 

“One cat in particular is a veritable Houdini when it comes to managing these escapes. She has had to claim him from the front desk six times in his short life span, two years so far,” Max continued. “She told me the story about one winter evening a year and a half ago when he escaped the apartment, made it through the lobby, and outside through the revolving door. She grabbed her shoes and a coat, and spent several minutes looking for him under the parked cars out front, to no avail. She went back inside for a heavier coat, and winter boots, and her purse. A phone call interrupted her exit. It was more than thirty minutes before she could go back out into the snow and search for her missing cat. Mrs. Shaw was walking up and down the sidewalk along the front of the building when what she describes as a miracle occurred.” 

“A miracle?” Danny breathed. 

“The awning at the front of the building. It’s very loose, and manages to hold a good deal of rain or snow when precipitation falls.” 

“What about it?” Mary murmured, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Jesus, man, could you just get to the point?” 

Max gave Steve’s sister a grumpy frown. 

“Mrs. Shaw was walking under the awning when there was a squeal of alarm and muffled thump. The accumulated snow fell off around her. The kitten for whom she had been searching bounced off the awning, and landed on her back. He scrambled up into the hood of her coat, and could not be coaxed out for several minutes. When Mrs. Shaw looked up the side of the building, she was quiet sure she saw a small blonde woman leaning over from one of the upper story balconies.”

Danny smiled hopefully. Max clicked a button, and the computer screen lit up. A red-haired lady in her late forties was smiling on the other end of the Skype connection. 

“Mrs. Shaw? Are you there?” Max called out, more loudly than necessary. 

“Hello, Dr. Bergman,” she replied brightly. “Yes, I’m here.” 

“Do you have him with you?” Max asked anxiously. 

Mrs. Shaw bent down to her right, and pulled a black and gray, long-haired tabby up into her lap. He jumped onto a level with the computer, walked across the desk, and stuck his face into the camera eye. Mrs. Shaw smiled proudly as she showed the cat off.

“Milo, say hello to the nice people.” 

Steve stifled himself, one hand over his mouth, and other clamped over his other hand. His eyes popped wide open. Danny put both hands on his shoulders from behind, and held on gently. 

“Commander McGarrett, I do hope that it will put you somewhat at ease to know Milo is safe, and healthy, and happy, and very much loved,” Max said softly to Steve. McGarrett pulled in a shaking breath, scrambled out of Danny’s grip, and headed for the laundry room hallway. The pantry door closed with a bang. 

“Is everything all right, Dr. Bergman?” Mrs. Shaw asked. Milo was meowing, pawing at the camera lens. No one seemed more puzzled than the cat himself. 

“That is not how I imagined this would go,” Max admitted to Danny as Williams fumed, only barely keeping a lid on his temper. 

“Max, I know you meant well, but…. You know? Maybe a little advanced warning before…? Oh my god,” Danny whispered before he made a beeline for the laundry room hallway when the sound of breaking glass was heard. 

“Thank you for your help, Mrs. Shaw. We will be in touch if we require any more information,” Dr. Bergman murmured, not sure what he had done, but overwhelmed with a terrible feeling he had caused more harm than good. 

“Glad to help. Hope we helped,” Mrs. Shaw answered. 

“Thank you again,” Max said before the Skype connection was severed. 

“Should we….?” Mary asked anxiously. 

“No. I’m sure Danny has everything under control,” Joe answered. 

“I hope so,” Dutch whispered. 

The situation was anything but under control. 

“You don’t understand!” Steve was shouting in the distance, his voice booming off of the walls of the confined space. 

“I do understand,” Danny promised desperately. 

“If Milo is real, it’s all real! All of it! Everything!” Steve roared. 

“I know, Steve,” Danny soothed. 

“NO! NO! You don’t know! You have no idea!!” 

“Should we help?” Max worried when the sound of more breaking glass and bouncing metal cans echoed. Dutch and Mary both tensed and started to head in that direction. 

“No,” Joe cautioned. “This is private. Give them a few minutes alone. If anyone can get through to Steve, it’s Danny.” 

“Steve!? Steve! Listen to me!”

“She destroyed my life! Our life! She destroyed…..”

More objects were bouncing around in the small hallway. One could easily imagine the canned goods and the boxed pasta being strewn about in anger. The glass jars shattered on the tile floor, their contents smashed and squished as Steve stormed around in fury. 

“Steve? It’s going to be okay. Whatever happened, whatever she’s done, she’s not going to get away with this. We’re going to prosecute her, and we’re going to make sure she’s never going to hurt anyone again. Steve? Calm down. Are you listening to me? Stop. Stand still. Listen to me. Are you listening to me?” 

“Yes…” Steve squeaked finally. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Danny promised again. 

“No….it’s….it’s not….” Steve moaned. 

“Yes, it is. I said it’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to make it okay. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” came the soft reply. 

“Give me your hand.” 

“I’m sorry….Danny.....sorry about….everything.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Danny soothed again. 

Footsteps approached. Danny was pulling Steve into the kitchen. He was fumbling for a kitchen towel, holding Steve by one wrist. Blood was gushing from a gash in Steve’s palm. A jagged piece of glass jar was sticking out of his hand. 

“You’re going to need stitches,” Danny decided, holding Steve’s hand over the sink, running water as he pulled the shard of glass free. McGarrett’s wounded paw was the cleanest part of him. The rest was covered in spaghetti sauce, tomatoes, a spackling of flour sticking to the wet spots, a few peas in his hair, and even a touch of jellied cranberry sauce on his cheek. 

“I’m fine…” Steve moaned sullenly, taking a stab at his face with his other hand. 

“Looks bad. You should take him to the ER,” Joe recommended. “You keep pressure on the wound. I’ll drive,” White said, taking Steve by the shoulders and pushing him for the front door while Danny wrapped a clean towel around the still-gushing wound.


	21. The Escapees

“I can’t believe you drove us to Tripler instead of Queens Medical,” Danny growled for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. 

Joe White was a patient man, but even he had his limits. He raised his head and needled Danny with his shark’s eyes. 

“Given the fact that Steve bolted in terror from Queens less than twelve hours ago, holding you by the throat, and threatening your life, I assumed that you would prefer not showing your face at the same facility,” Joe hissed. “For the sake of decency if nothing else.” 

“Steve didn’t harm me. He was upset. That’s all,” Danny defended. 

“Well, he’s got good reason to be upset,” Joe huffed. He thumped his back against the wall once more, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m just saying, I think we should have gone to Queens,” Danny added. 

“Force of habit,” Joe muttered, closing his eyes for a few seconds. 

“What is?” Danny wondered. 

“Heading here,” White added. “You can take the man out of the Navy, but you can’t take the Navy out of the man.” 

“Even after all they’ve done?” 

“It was a few bad apples who were trying to hurt Steve, not the whole damned Navy.”

“Fine. I guess you’re right. You can’t blame everyone for what almost happened. At least we know we can trust Tank. Why wouldn’t they let us stay in the room with him?” Danny continued to bitch and moan in a gravelly voice. 

“Because we aren’t blood family.” 

Before Danny could protest that they were immediate family due to marriage bonds and emotional ties, Joe turned those shark eyes on Danny again. 

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. The Commander is less than ten feet away, being tended by two very capable nurses. You would need a platoon of special ops SEALS to get past Tank to hurt Steve. He doesn’t need you standing in that room, holding his hand. You’re going about this all wrong.” 

“Going about what?” Danny demanded. 

“Your first response is to mother Steve because he’s hurting, and when he hurts you hurt. I get that. Okay? But you need to stop that right this minute.”

“After what he’s been through? I’ll hold his hand if he needs me to,” Danny’s voice rose anxiously. “I don’t even want to let him out of my sight.” 

“That’s exactly the wrong approach. He doesn’t need to be coddled. You can’t mother him. You can’t kiss him, and make it all better. As hard as it is for you to stand there and do nothing, you have got to let Steve pull himself to his feet, and deal on his own terms with what has happened. You made that mistake before when he was kidnapped and tortured by Wo Fat.”

“How would you know?” 

“You mothered him, you smothered him, and he resented you for it. You can’t do that again.” 

“You can’t just pretend none of it ever happened, and hope he limps along back to normalcy without any help,” Danny protested. 

“I trained Navy SEALS for almost three decades, Detective Williams, and I’ll tell you one thing I learned. You cannot treat soldiers like little boys. They are grown men who can take care of themselves. They need to stand on their own two feet.” 

“Steve needs to know that someone has his back.” 

“You can have his back without kissing his boo-boos and patting him on the head like he’s three years old.” 

“Hmph,” Danny snorted. “Where’d you learn that? The Doris McGarrett School of Mothering?”

“You watch your mouth,” Joe warned. "Doris did the best she could under the circumstances." 

“How dare you defend that woman in front of me? After all she’s done!?” Danny chortled unkindly, eyes flickering with challenge. “I want Steve to understand that he doesn’t have to pretend he’s okay just to make us feel better, to assuage our guilt. He needs to know we aren’t going to be disappointed in him for showing that maybe, just maybe, he might be hurting emotionally after what has happened to him.” 

“Doris is not the only person responsible for the way Steve turned out. It takes two to tango.” 

“Steve’s father loved him very much.” 

“So does Doris. They aren’t the only ones who had a hand in making him the man that he is. I have to take a lot of that blame myself,” Joe admitted. “But you shouldn’t be so dismissive of Doris’s mothering abilities. She’s got a lot of heart, even if she doesn’t go about things the way you think she ought to go about them.” 

“Are you in love with Doris?” Danny snorted. 

“What in the hell are you going on about?” Joe growled defensively. 

“You've got to be kidding me! I guess you think schtupping Steve’s mom will make you his real dad?” Danny mocked angrily. 

“I am not schtupping Doris McGarrett,” Joe howled in reply. 

Above them, the paging system came alive with a series of warning tones, interrupting their argument. 

“Captain Loring, please report to the fifth floor. Captain Loring.” 

With a crackle of static, the paging system quieted down. But the same could not be said for the floor staff. Two nurses took flight from the station like angry eagles, eyes narrowed on their task. They flew past Danny and Joe at top speed, guns ready. 

“Loring,” one muttered in disgust, checking her clip in transit.

“Probably snuck out for another cigarette break,” the other answered. 

Joe was on his feet. He crossed the hall and watched the two women vanish into the stairwell. 

“What’s up?” Danny wondered. Joe pulled his sidearm, checked the clip, and pointed a warning finger at him. 

“Stay here. Watch Steve. We’ll finish this conversation later.” 

“What is it?” Danny worried. 

“Captain Loring is head of security,” Joe replied. 

“So?” 

Joe knocked on the door to the room where Tank was tending to Steve. Captain Karlsen peeked her head out. 

“Loring is missing. Lock this door. Don’t let anyone in or out,” Joe ordered. 

The paging system came to life once again. 

“Captain Karlsen, report to the fifth floor. Captain Karlsen, please report to the fifth floor.”

“What’s on the fifth floor?” Danny asked as Tank opened the door completely with an annoyed, four-letter mumble. 

“Restricted section,” Tank grumbled, all business. “Detective, you and the ensign take Commander McGarrett to my office. Third floor. Now.” 

Danny knew better than to argue. Tank clapped a set of keys into his grip, and took off with Joe. Only one key dangled from her belt on a long, ball chain. 

Inside the small room, the nurse was propping Steve up on his feet. McGarrett was a bit wobbly, probably from his dismay at being back in a hospital setting the second time in twelve hours. The alert system came alive with a loud squawk, and Steve’s entire body went stiff. 

“Code Red! All essential security personnel, please report to the fifth floor. Code Red!”

The nurse holding Steve up tensed tightly too. She stared at Danny, at Steve, and at the alert system speaker. 

“Ensign? Do you need to report?” Danny said, wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist. 

“I should go,” she nodded. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Code Red is an emergency situation.”

“Thanks, babe. I figured that out on my own,” Danny grunted. 

“All hell has broken loose up there,” the ensign continued, watching another group of soldiers rush past with their weapons drawn.

“….one dead, two wounded, one bogey walking, last seen on the fifth floor headed up…..” a walkie-talkie revealed as they raced along. 

“All essential personnel,” she repeated softly, pining anxiously. 

“Sounds like all hands on deck. You’re free to go. Just point me to the elevators,” Danny said as Steve leaned on him. 

“Thank you, sir. That way,” she replied as she took off, following the others. 

“Elevators stop during a Code Red,” Steve murmured as Danny guided him along the hallway. Nurses from the station at the junction were closing and locking all patient rooms in the near vicinity. 

“I know, Mrs. Johnson, but you need to follow standard procedure. Stay in your son’s room with him until the All Clear is given,” one was explaining patiently as she gently nudged a mother back into the room where a bandaged soldier was lying in his bed, sound asleep in spite of all the noise. 

Danny was banging impatiently on the elevator button. Steve stood up a hint straighter and smacked Danny’s hand away from the button.

“Like I said before, elevators stop in the event of a Code Red in the hospital,” Steve repeated. Danny felt a chill along his spine as the man beside him loomed closer. Steve had morphed into Commander McGarrett again. 

“At least one of the elevators is moving,” Danny reported as he watched the numbers rolling by on the display panel. McGarrett narrowed his eyes at the display, rubbing a thumb along the bandage which was wound around his left wrist and palm. Danny stared nervously at the man beside him, hoping shit was not about to hit the fan again. 

“Only Naval personnel with the highest security clearance carry the key which will activate the elevator during a Code Red,” McGarrett murmured. 

“Hmm,” Danny hummed. “Friend or foe? Fifty-fifty chances.” 

Steve replied a ghastly slash of a smile. “Gonna go with ‘foe’,” he squinted. 

“Ma’am?” Danny tapped on the nurses’ station counter. 

“Can I help you, sir?” she replied coldly, eyes on seven monitors while gritting her teeth at the interruption. 

“Do you have a sidearm behind the counter, Lieutenant?” McGarrett asked deeply, sticking out a hand, palm up. 

“Um….” Danny protested nervously as she deposited the gun into Steve’s open paw. 

“Do you have a second sidearm, Lieutenant?” Steve asked, getting comfortable and friendly with the gun she had handed him. He did everything but rub it sweetly against his nose to say hello. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Keep it in reach,” Steve advised before going back to prowl in front of the elevator. It amazed Danny how everyone kept obeying orders from Steve, no matter his physical condition. He had a commanding voice and a looming presence which demanded obedience. At least in this mood, he did. 

“Um….” Danny protested, clearing his throat. “Maybe you should give me the gun, babe?” he suggested meekly. 

Commander McGarrett chortled, full of mischief and malice. 

“Dream on, pal,” he rumbled. 

The silvery doors slid open. McGarrett raised the gun. Tank popped out with a wounded man slung against her side, shouting orders. McGarrett wilted back in disappointment. 

“Commander McGarrett! One side! Now! Lieutenant Lewis! Where are you?!”

“Yes, Captain!?” 

The nurse behind the counter sprang around and helped support the bloody, unconscious man that Tank was keeping aloft but only just. Danny spun to lift the wounded man’s feet as Lewis hurried around with a gurney. Several other nurses sprang into action as well. The diminutive Tank climbed up on the gurney with the soldier, straddled his hips, and ripped open his uniform, but not before Danny read his name. It was the unfortunate Captain Loring. He was riddled with gunshot wounds. Tank started chest compressions, yelling stats as her well-trained team moved into action. 

“Multiple gunshot wounds to the upper chest. One gunshot wound to the lower abdomen. I lost his pulse fifteen seconds ago. Blood pressure is dropping. I need five units of O negative, and a trauma team, now!”

Danny stopped in his tracks as the gurney, nurses, and patient rolled into the only open room. The stairway door at the other end of the hallway popped open, allowing two doctors and an armed guard entry. They hurried for the room with all the action, knowing where they were needed most. They had everything under control and didn't need Danny's help. 

Williams spun back around when he heard the elevator doors ding behind him. His heart fell through his feet. McGarrett was gone. 

“Steve?” 

Numbers crawled by on the display panel, stopping at the fifth floor. 

“STEVE!?” Danny wailed, banging out the stairwell door and flying up the steps like a tiny, angry comet. Williams emerged on the fifth floor, still running at top speed. He was nearly impaled by several short-barreled weapons being brandished by long-armed men and women in uniform. Joe White was among them. 

“At ease,” the former SEAL trainer grumbled, lowering his weapon. The three others lowered their weapons in suit. 

“Dang it,” the young woman drawled in disappointment. 

“STEVE!” Danny howled, pushing past them and racing to the bank of elevators. Joe followed. 

“Why aren’t you two on the third floor in Tank’s office?” Joe demanded. 

“Steve gave me the slip! He’s responding to the Code Red,” Danny breathed. “Or should I say, Commander McGarrett is responding.” 

“Uh oh,” Joe gulped. "That's not good." 

"No, it's not,” Danny agreed with a snarl. 

The elevator crawled to a stop. Williams stood in front of the doors, ready to pounce. The green arrow lit up. The bells dinged. The doors slid open. 

No Steve. 

Danny wailed loudly in alarm. Joe stepped into the elevator, and snatched the broken panel from the floor of the car. He shined a flashlight into the hole in the top of the elevator. 

“COMMANDER McGARRETT?” White bellowed. The cables were wobbling back and forth as someone pulled themselves aloft. If Danny weren't in state of alarm, he might have felt a begrudging admiration for the fact that having a wounded hand wasn't slowing Steve down in the slightest.

Danny bounced inside, and snatched at the panel of buttons. Tank’s key was gone. The panel itself had been opened, and several wires had been pulled out. Commander McGarrett had disabled the car.

Joe leapt skyward, climbing out through the hole, intent on following Steve up the cables. Two of the others followed suit. Danny bolted back out of the elevator car, and banged through the door to the stairs. He might not have been able to climb the cables like Joe and his trained monkeys, but he could make better time on the stairs as it was. 

Danny was surprised when he realized he had a tail. The female soldier was following him up the stairs. Better than that, she was passing him, knees bouncing, combat boots thumping, her face a determined grimace. As her sleeves rode up, Danny spotted a lasso tattooed on her left wrist. 

“Hey, sister? You got a second weapon?” Danny panted as he hurried to catch up with her. “I’m feeling naked here.” 

When they cleared the next landing, she yanked open a pocket on one muscular thigh, and produced a second gun, which she plunked into Danny’s hands with a tight-lipped warning. 

“Lose it, and I will shoot your ass,” she warned with a twang. 

“Who is causing all this commotion?” Danny panted when they took off again. He paused, and leaned out into the center of the stairwell. He counted several more floors. Seven? Eight? He wasn’t sure. 

“Smuggler. Native. Three hundred pounds. Six foot-five. He cracked his two guards’ heads together, and stole both their guns. Filled Cap Loring full of holes. Ran over my Lieu like a goddamn, tattooed freight train.”

“Sounds like a real bad ass.” 

“A complete bad ass, sir,” she answered. 

“This bad ass got a name?” Danny wondered. 

“Kalaka Riley.” 

“Where do I know that name from?” Danny asked himself as he and the soldier hit the top floor landing. They were reaching simultaneously for the door when there was a burst of gunfire on the other side. 

“Riley! Drop the weapon and put your hands in the air!!!” 

The door popped open, knocking back against the wall. A mountain of a man emerged into the stairwell. Danny hit the opposite wall in the nick of time to avoid getting creamed by the mountain or the swinging door. The soldier beside him climbed the mountain with a whoop that would have been the envy of her fellow combatants, had they been there to watch. She knocked him off kilter. 

“Hooyah!!” 

The soldier and the mountain slid down the stairs, both yelling, both swinging fists. At least they were until they hit the wall below. The mountain came to a sudden stop with a yelp of pain. He was on his back with a tiny fury on his chest. Her knees were on either side of his head, and the barrel of her gun was pressed between his eyes. 

“Blink and you die!” 

“…fuck…..” Kalaka groaned. He had a wound on the back of his head, and there was blood pooling on the floor beneath his hair.

“Hands in the air!” 

“….fuck off…” the mountain growled, but he obeyed. 

Two uniformed security personnel emerged from the top floor, goggling in amazement as they trained their weapons on Kalaka Riley. 

“Wyatt, you took Riley down?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“No way,” one muttered to the other. 

“Yes way,” the other answered. The soldier on top of Riley got carefully to her feet and allowed the two security personnel to wrangle the escapee into expanded handcuffs. 

“You’re welcome, gents,” she grinned, slapping her gun back into her holster and watching with pride as they dragged Kalaka up the stairs. 

“No way,” the first repeated.

“Dude, Wyatt took top honors five years running at the 4-H rodeo in Stillwater.”

“No way.” 

The second soldier shook his head in dismay as they dragged Riley into the hallway above. 

“Wyatt,” the young woman said as she stuck a hand at Danny. 

“Williams.” 

“Thanks for your help, Williams.” 

“That was all you! How did I help, cowering over there?” Williams wondered, laughing at himself as he returned her weapon. She tucked the prize away in her pocket as she replied. 

“Sometimes the best way to lend a hand is to stand clear,” Wyatt answered, heading into the hallway. Danny followed behind her. 

“I don’t suppose you could lend me a hand corralling someone else?” Danny hoped. 

A supply closet door opened, and a dark-haired woman in scrubs peered out. 

“All clear, ma’am,” Wyatt said as she and Danny sauntered past. 

“Thanks,” the woman said, opening the door wider to allow three other people to emerge. She took two of them by the arms, guiding them along with the help of another woman in scrubs. She escorted them back into nearby patient rooms. 

“Who else are we looking for?” Wyatt asked Danny. Williams stood in front of the bank of elevator doors. Three sets of doors were closed. One set had been pried open, and stood ajar. Panting and grunting was rising up the elevator shaft. A hand appeared, and then a leg and a combat boot. Joe White popped up into view. 

“How about a hand?” he growled.

“Where the hell is Steve?” Danny demanded as he and Wyatt both tugged Joe up onto the tile floor. The former SEAL pulled himself upright and reached back for the next man behind him. 

“He reached the top before we did,” Joe grumbled. 

“No shit, Sherlock,” Danny barked. “Where is he?” 

They pulled the second man and the third man up out of the elevator shaft. 

“Well, we can stand around wondering, or we can go look for him,” Joe rumbled deeply. “You two go that way. We’ll go this way,” he pointed. The soldiers split up and set out. Danny and Wyatt went to the left. Joe and his trained monkeys went to the right. 

“JIM!? JIM, DON’T DO THIS!”

“Oh fuck,” Danny breathed breaking into a run as he heard a woman screaming up ahead. 

Wyatt and Danny dodged past an open door as a large, angry jaguar came prowling out, dragging a blonde woman in scrubs behind him. 

“You make one more sound, and I’ll strangle you right here,” Steve warned as he whirled on the woman and backed her up against the wall.

“Drop the weapon, sir,” Wyatt ordered, levelling her gun at Steve. McGarrett turned to give her an arched brow and an icy snarl. Danny got between Wyatt and Steve in order to get the young soldier to drop her weapon instead. 

The small blonde woman who had been cowering against the wall took off like she had been fired out of a cannon. Steve tilted his head, and watched her disappear down the hallway. To Danny's surprise, McGarrett was smiling widely. 

“What’s the matter, Libby? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Steve called, following in her wake while checking the number of bullets in the clip of his gun.


	22. The Rooftop

“Steve?” 

“Kinda busy, Danny.” 

“I can see that. Babe, you need to rethink what you’re about to do.” 

McGarrett concentrated on Danny while also watching Wyatt edge closer. The hospital was an oblong building, and there was plenty of room on the rooftop in which Dr. Handler could give herself the illusion that she might actually escape from the man who was pursuing her across the long expanse. Except that the faster she ran away, the more resolutely he pursued her. 

They had emerged somewhere in the middle of the roof, but Libby was racing for the far end, looking for another door or a fire escape, anything that might give her hope of reprieve. All the while, Steve pursued her, wind whipping through his disheveled hair, rippling over his loose clothing. The remaining traces of flour and splotches of spaghetti sauce did nothing to improve his thin pallor and strange appearance. Out here in the daylight, it was even more evident to Danny that Steve was not a well man. More than ever, he wanted to take Steve home and begin the process of healing. 

“I know you’re angry and you’re hurting, but this is not the way to go about making her pay,” Danny warned. “Killing her is not going to make you feel better.” 

Steve tilted his head. “I disagree,” he replied coolly. 

Danny followed Steve, attempting to reason with him. As Danny followed Steve, Wyatt followed Danny, all the while giving updates to her captain on her walkie-talkie. 

“Captain Benning? Sir? Are you there?”

“Here, Ensign Wyatt. What’s your location? Great job with Riley, by the way.” 

“Thanks, Captain. I’m up here on the rooftop. We have a situation developing.” 

“What kind of situation?”

“Commander McGarrett is chasing one of the restricted section nurses on the rooftop.”

“Which nurse?”

“He keeps calling her Libby.” 

“We did a head count, Wyatt, and none of the nurses are missing. Whoever she is, she’s not one of our nurses.” 

“But she’s in scrubs.” 

“Why is McGarrett chasing the nurse up on the roof?” 

“I’m not quite sure,” Wyatt replied. 

“Well, find out, Ensign, and then get back to me,” the captain chuckled. Wyatt clicked off her walkie-talkie for a second. 

“Steve, you can’t do this,” Danny pleaded, taking hold of one of McGarrett’s elbows. Williams put on his brakes and tugged hard to bring them to a halt. “You have every right to be mad, babe.” 

“I’m not mad,” Steve insisted. That seemed true on the surface. He was eerily calm. That wall which divided him from his anger had come crashing down the moment after he snarled at Wyatt for pointing her gun at him. Steve had turned into an emotionless automaton bent on Libby’s mortal demise, nothing like the raging, furious beast he had been seconds before. 

The damage Libby had caused in Steve’s personality by messing around with his fragile hold on reality was about to come back to haunt her. The problem was that if this went totally sideways, Steve would also suffer the consequences. He would trade one kind of prison for another kind if he killed Libby. Danny was going to do everything in his power to protect Steve, even if that meant taking him down. He would stop at nothing to keep Steve from ruining his own life by taking Libby’s life. 

“Give me the gun, Steve,” Danny ordered, holding out his hand. 

McGarrett immediately complied, setting the borrowed sidearm in Williams’ grip. As he did so, he left dots of red on Danny’s hand. Steve must have torn his stitches climbing the elevator cables. Blood was seeping into his bandage. 

“This is good, Steve. This is very good,” Danny praised gently. “Now you’re listening to reason.”

Steve’s eyes followed Libby as she continued to flee. 

“Don’t worry. She’s not getting away. She can run all she wants. There’s no ladder or fire escape over there.”

“She could jump.” 

“She could jump, but she can’t fly,” Danny promised. “You stay here, and make nice with Wyatt, and I’ll go put Libby in cuffs.”

Steve’s brows dipped in anger and the smile vanished as he took off again. Danny tucked the weapon into the back of his pants. He pulled more forcefully on Steve’s arm to get the big man to stop. 

“What are you gonna do, Steve? Toss her over the side of the building? Killing Libby is not going to solve anything.” 

“It will make me feel better.” 

“For a few seconds, it might make you feel better. But then what? Are you willing to spend the rest of your life in prison for killing her?” 

Steve was clearly considering this scenario, eyes glittering hungrily. 

“The correct answer is no,” Danny growled, clenching Steve’s arm more tightly. 

“After what she did to me? After what she did to Milo?” 

“Milo is fine, and you are going to be okay. I can’t let you kill her, babe. I can’t do that. Because then she wins, and I’m not going to let that happen. I’m not going to let you go to prison. That bitch has stolen enough of your life. Don't let her take any more of it. Do you understand? The only way she goes to prison is if we take her back into custody.”

Steve studied Danny with an icy expression which sent chills down Williams’ spine. Danny would have preferred howling anger to this chilly calm. 

“She hurt me. I want to hurt her.” 

“Oh God, Babe. I understand. You know I do.”

“She lied to me. She drugged me. She manipulated me. She made me do things.” 

“I know,” Danny soothed.

“I broke my vows to you,” Steve quivered. 

“That is not your fault. I don’t blame you for one second. You didn’t have a choice.”

“She’s going to pay for what she’s done,” Steve swore, teeth grinding. 

“I promise, babe, she is going to pay for the rest of her stinking, miserable life. I will put Libby in cuffs, and we will take her in. And we will make her pay.”

“No. You showed me those files. How many other people has she tormented and killed? She deserves to die,” Steve decided, heading off again. 

Wyatt clicked on her walkie-talkie as she stopped beside Danny, who was cursing quietly to himself in frustration. 

“Captain Benning?”

“Go ahead, Wyatt.” 

“I think she might be one of the prisoners.”

“We'll do a head count. Hang tight.” 

Libby had come to the end of her tether. She was scrambling back and forth against the short stone wall on the farthest part of the roof. She backed up in terror as Steve prowled closer, her blue eyes darting glances at the trees and parking lot below her. She was balanced on her toes, butt on the low wall, cringing away from McGarrett. But McGarrett bypassed Libby entirely, seemingly oblivious to her agitated state. He stared down over the edge. 

“I wouldn’t recommend it. The drop isn’t enough to kill you. It’s only far enough to break both legs, maybe an arm too. Pelvis. Spine,” Steve murmured coolly. "You'd be immobilized. At the mercy of the people around you."

“You don’t want to hurt me. I love you. Don’t do this,” Libby pleaded, softening her voice, making herself seem small and frail and helpless. She cast terrified eyes at Danny, who made a snorting sound of amusement in reply. 

“If you’re trying to play on my sympathy, you may as well stop,” Danny mocked. 

“Mmm,” Steve commented, staring over the side of the short wall again. “Too bad. Not a single awning in sight.”

“Jim? Jim, don’t do this.”

Steve’s placid face contorted with fury. Danny yelped in surprise as McGarrett snagged one of Libby’s small wrists. His hand dwarfed her petite extremity. 

“Say my name,” Steve growled. 

“Jim! Stop! You’re hurting me! Don’t do this!” Libby wailed.

Danny froze, afraid to get any closer for fear it would set Steve off. 

“Say my name,” McGarrett ordered again. His stormy blue eyes narrowed as his upper lip curled with distaste. 

“Your name is James Geist. You’re my husband. You were in an accident. You have cognitive issues. You have blackouts. You’re prone to violent outbursts if you’re off your medication. You don't want to hurt me. I love you, Jim.” 

McGarrett snarled and shook the tiny woman as he spat out words. 

“My name is Stephen J. McGarrett,” Steve snapped. He stopped short, and looked at Danny in childlike confusion. It was clear that he was under duress, not thinking straight. “What does the J stand for?” Steve wondered. 

Williams exhaled and took the opportunity to creep closer. 

“Jack, I think? Either Jack or John. Your dad’s name was John, but everyone called him Jack. Kinda like Kennedy, you know? Steve? I’m going to borrow Ensign Wyatt’s cuffs, and I’m going to put them on Libby. Okay?” Danny asked.

“You haven’t seen my birth certificate?” Steve replied. Either he hadn’t heard the question, or if he was ignoring it. 

“No. I haven’t seen it. You had to present it when we applied for our civil ceremony license. You carried it in your wallet, folded up in a dirty square. It was barely legible, in real pitiful shape. I didn’t read it. You didn’t give me a chance. You whipped it out for the county clerk, and she frowned like you handed her a dead mouse. She took a copy, and gave it back to you, and you put it away again. Babe? Can I put the cuffs on Libby? You can help me.” 

“Stephen Jack McGarrett? That’s ridiculous. There’s no flow to that,” Steve decided with an annoyed frown. Just as quickly, he shook the divergent thought away, and turned his attention back to Libby. She was quivering in his grip, not sure what he was going to do next. “Say my name.” 

“What?” she stammered. 

“I want to hear you say my name.” 

“We aren’t going to play these games, Jim,” she insisted. “This isn’t real. He isn't real. We’re home in Manhattan, just you and me. You’re having another episode, another blackout. Like last week. Do you remember? You’ll wake up in a few minutes, and you won’t remember any of this.” 

Steve squinted in confusion at Libby. For a second, Williams was afraid that her ploy might work. There was indecision in McGarrett’s eyes. But then Steve glanced at Danny, studying his face, his protective stance. Steve reached out and put his other hand on Danny’s forearm. 

“I’m real,” Danny promised gently, caressing the hand. Steve glared back at Libby. 

“Danny is real. I can feel the wind. The sunshine. I can feel his pulse. I can smell his hair. He’s real. This is home. Hawaii. Not Manhattan. I belong here. I belong with Danny. I don’t belong with you. I never did. You’ve lied to me, all this time.”

“I’m not lying,” she insisted. 

“Say my name. Stephen J. McGarrett,” Steve repeated quietly as he tightened his grip on her and ground his teeth together. 

“Commander McGarrett, you need to let go of that nurse,” Wyatt ordered sternly from Danny’s other side. Her sharp words made Steve reconsider what he was doing. If only Libby had kept her mouth shut. 

“I’m not a nurse! I’m a doctor, thank you very much!” Libby snapped rudely in reply, tucking her free hand on her hip and giving a head weave of annoyance. She looked like Grace when she was angry – like an insulted tween who thought acting like a tough bitch was going to make the world fall at her feet and rush to obey her every whim. 

The sound of Danny’s mocking laughter sparked something in Libby. It wounded her ego and her pride. She yanked her wrist out of Steve’s grip, and crossed her arms over her chest. She advanced on Danny in fury. 

“Don’t you laugh at me! I am a well-respected scientist! My work is going to rewrite treatment practices for the next two hundred years! You’ll see!”

She then turned her fury on Steve and yelled at him next.

“When this is all said and done, Jim, you’re going to thank me. You should be grateful for what I’ve done for you.” 

A flash of fury crossed Steve’s face. Danny knew what was coming, but all he had time to do was inhale in fear. All the mercy and gentleness left Steve in one split second. He pushed hard on both her tiny shoulders. Danny leapt forward as Libby flailed wildly and then went backwards over the short wall. Her flailing might have been amusing in any other situation. But not here. Steve stuck an arm in Danny’s chest, blocking him from helping, and at the same time, at the very last second, McGarrett snatched at the last part of Libby that was visible. 

Danny dropped to his knees on the rooftop, one hand over his mouth and one hand holding his aching sternum. When he climbed to his feet, he realized Steve was leaning over the short wall, holding one little foot in the air. Libby was shrieking loudly, whirling around in McGarrett’s grip.

“Grateful?” McGarrett growled. 

Libby shrieked again, wiggling, caught by her ankle in Steve’s tenuous grip. Blood was trickling from the soaked bandage now, running down Steve’s hand and marring Libby's ankle, like an animal caught in a trap.

“Commander, please, I’m going to have to ask you to let her…”

“Wyatt? Choose your words carefully,” Danny interrupted in terror. 

“Sir? Please? Bring her back onto the rooftop, and let me put her in cuffs. I promise you, we will sort this out,” Wyatt pleaded. She inched around Danny, and closer to Steve. “Commander McGarrett? You’re not allowed to drop prisoners from the roof. Do you understand?”

Wyatt dangled her cuffs out so Steve could see them. McGarrett tilted his head to the side. He was listening to Wyatt, but he also watched Libby screaming non-stop as she twisted and whirled and squirmed in his grip. 

“It’s not nearly as much fun when you’re the one screaming, is it?” Steve asked. 

Libby’s only answer was an even-louder shriek. Steve’s grip on her ankle was loosening, made slippery by the blood soaking through his bandage. 

“STEVEN! WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?!” Danny bellowed. 

Those words made McGarrett jolt, made his eyes focus back on Williams. True recognition filled his stormy eyes. A hint of a smile pulled at his mouth once more, and that smile made Danny relax. Steve's forehead rippled. 

“Why you always yelling at me, Danno? Why?”

The distraction gave Wyatt enough time to reach out and snap one cuff around Libby’s nearest, flailing hand. Steve allowed the interruption because he was focused on Danny. Libby was no more than an annoyance. McGarrett even helped haul the screaming, shaking woman back to safety, dropping her unceremoniously at the ensign’s feet. Wyatt pulled Libby’s arms behind her back, and snapped the second circle on her other wrist. 

“One of you want to tell me who this woman is?” Wyatt pleaded. 

“Her current alias is Dr. Libby Handler. We don’t know her real name,” Danny answered. “Watch her like a hawk, Wyatt, and don’t trust a single word that comes out of her mouth. She must have slipped from her room while the security personnel were busy chasing Riley. She grabbed scrubs from the supply closet. I bet if we check there, we’ll find her prison hospital gown,” Danny speculated. 

“She was on her way towards the stairs when I spotted her,” Steve interjected. 

“Duly noted,” Wyatt nodded. “I’ll take her back to Captain Benning, and make sure she’s kept under guard.” 

“Thank you, Ensign,” Steve nodded. 

Wyatt hauled the prisoner upright. Libby was shaking and stumbling as Wyatt shoved her forward across the rooftop. 

“Someday, Jim, you will thank me for what I’ve done for you,” Libby smirked over her shoulder at Steve. McGarrett bristled at the parting shot. 

“Lady, you better quit while you’re ahead,” Wyatt advised her. 

Danny put up a hand just in time to catch McGarrett in the chest. Williams held on tight, and barely managed to hold the seething man in place.

“You and me. We have got to talk,” Danny growled. 

“About what?” Steve wondered. 

Behind them, Joe White and his troops popped up onto the rooftop, wondering what the hell was going on when Wyatt dragged her second catch of the day back into the building. 

“You missed all the fun, gents,” Wyatt grinned happily. 

Joe twitched in annoyance as Danny put both arms around Steve’s waist and pulled him into a hug. McGarrett was leaving bloody blotches on Williams’ back. Danny couldn’t have cared less. 

“Let’s get you back to Tank. Get you patched up again,” Danny sniffed.

“Yes, Danno,” Steve nodded, letting Danny examine his hand. 

“I like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Say it again.”

“Say what, Danno?” 

“I’ve missed that. You calling me ‘Danno’. Come on, Animal,” Danny sniffed again, pulling Steve by his wounded hand. He whirled to find Joe White and the other soldiers there, looking puzzled and bereft. “Where the fuck have you been? You get lost on the way to the party? He’s been up here dangling people over rooftops, and you decide to take the long way around? The fuck,” Williams snapped, a tiny hurricane of anger again.

“Sorry,” Joe muttered. Danny sensed immediately that Joe had delayed because he was hoping Steve would toss Libby over the side of the building. Realizing that only annoyed Danny further. 

“One side. One side. He’s bleeding like hell. Tore his stitches. Could have used your help! Like ten minutes ago. Thanks a fucking lot," Danny growled.

“Sorry,” Joe shrugged again. The "not sorry" was implicit in Joe's smirk. Danny barreled through the confused soldiers and led Steve inside.


	23. Epilogue - The One Behind the Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't set out to write a 20 page epilogue......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs quoted are "Unwell" by Matchbox Twenty, "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics, and "Behind the Wheel" by Depeche Mode.

“Mr. McGarrett, before we close today’s session, there is a very serious matter I want to talk to discuss with you.”

“Of course, Dr. Malani.” 

“With you and Mr. Williams both.” 

“Oh.” 

Steve sat up straighter in his spot on the divan, casting a nervous glance at the door as his therapist rose up out of her seat behind her desk and reached over to turn the knob. 

“Mr. Williams, would you please join us?” 

Danny blinked in confusion and a little fear. He put down the wrinkled magazine he had been holding. It’s not like he had read a single word of the inane articles as it was. Steve focused on his husband as Danny entered the therapist’s office uneasily. 

Dr. Malani walked Danny to the couch where Steve was perched, bidding him to sit down. Williams took a seat very gingerly, and not just because he was nervous. Steve’s fingers crept sideways, tentatively touching Danny’s hand for reassurance before climbing back into his own lap, curling nervously together. Dr. Malani sat down on the edge of her desk, looming over both men. She stared back and forth between them.

Danny knew what was going through Steve’s mind. Was his therapist about to revoke her permission for him to return to work? Steve had been restless and jumpy most of the night, fearing the possibility could occur. McGarrett had struggled through twelve months of mandated therapy, jumping through every hoop which had been placed before him, dutifully reaching every benchmark which had been expected of him. If Dr. Malani reneged on their agreement at this point, Steve was very likely to have a nervous breakdown, even if that wasn’t what they were called any more.

“Steven? Daniel? We’ve come to know each other very well over the last year,” Dr. Malani began.

“Oh crap. What is it?” Danny worried. Steve stifled a small, nervous smile, tucking his head down. He reached for Danny’s hand again, brushed his fingers, moved away.

“We have been in here for forty-five minutes, and Mr. McGarrett has not once mentioned the abrupt resolution of Andrea Nesbitt’s trial. I can only assume that means you two have not discussed it between yourselves either.”

Andrea Nesbitt. Lo and behold. After years of research and digging through public records in six different countries, Dutch Vandervries had finally uncovered Dr. Libby Handler’s real name and identity. Vandervries had used every method at her disposal, not all of them legal, and many of them involving the gifting of expensive alcohol, but she had uncovered a gold mine of information. Dutch had then supplied all the additional research to Steve’s legal counsel in advance of the upcoming trial. These new revelations had opened up settlement talks once again between Steve, the Navy, and Dr. Handler’s lawyers. Mostly because it was perfectly obvious that ‘Libby’ had had help covering her tracks for many years, and the prime suspect, virtually the only agency with something to lose, was the US Navy. Dutch had all but sealed the deal for Steve, and he would be forever grateful to her. Both he and Danny. 

Vandervries’ discovery had not come without a price though. The CIA had acknowledged her tremendous work with praise beyond measure, while at the same time, they had handed her a pink slip. Nominally because she had stepped over the line. Because she had publicly shamed a fellow government organization. Because she had held on like a bulldog until she had tidied up the last loose end of the case. But mostly because it was clear she wasn’t going to shut up, sit down, and follow orders. The agent who had spent almost three years of her life on the case which had led to Steve’s rescue and return home found herself without a job or a future. No good deed goes unpunished, as they say. 

“Not true. We have talked about the settlement,” Steve offered up, maybe too quickly. 

“Have you?” Dr. Malani was immediately skeptical. 

“We have,” Danny promised, smiling proudly at Steve. 

“I accepted the new offer from the Navy yesterday morning,” McGarrett added. 

“You took a monumental step like this, and yet you haven’t mentioned the consequences even once this morning,” Dr. Malani chided him. “We spent forty-five minutes discussing everything except how it feels to finally reach this resolution. That says to me that you aren’t dealing with the emotions this must be stirring for you.” 

“On the contrary,” Steve disagreed respectfully. “I just….the other stuff we talked about? That feels more important right now,” he shrugged helplessly. 

“You’re more concerned about your daughter’s upcoming driving test than the resolution of this case?” Dr. Malani frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Danny inhaled and turned around on the divan, fury burning under the surface of the civil words he ground out. 

“What upcoming driving test?”

“Um…” Steve stammered, giggling once softly before falling very still. “I promised Grace I'd help her pass her driving test. It's Friday.” 

“Steven….” Danny breathed. 

“I know she’s going to pass. So I already bought her a car.”

“Steven!” 

“I figured it would take weeks to get it delivered, you know? By then, she would have passed the test with flying colors. But as it turns out, the dealership found the exact make and model on Maui, and they’re shipping it today. It’ll be at the lot and ready to pick up by three,” Steve stammered again, cleared his throat, and shifted his feet. 

“Did Grace put you up to this?” Danny asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“No. She doesn’t know about the car. I wanted to do something nice for her. To show her how proud I am.” 

“You bought Grace a car without consulting me? I told her she had to wait until summer to get her provisional license. But you? You’ve been taking her to driving lessons without telling me? How long has this been going on?”

“She’s required to complete a sixteen-week course before she can get a provisional license, and even once she passes the driving test, she can’t go anywhere behind the wheel without an adult in the car,” Steve answered. 

“Sixteen weeks?” Danny breathed. Steve squinted.

“Sixteen weeks,” Steve confirmed. 

“Gentlemen? Can we focus?” Dr. Malani interrupted. 

“You’ve been doing this behind my back for sixteen weeks?” Danny growled. 

“You’ve been busy night and day with the Berkeley case, and I didn’t want to distract you from work,” Steve replied, voice rising slightly. 

“We are going to talk about this later. And by the way, you’re both grounded,” Danny growled the words between clenched teeth. 

“You can’t ground me!” Steve growled back at him, eyes growing dark with annoyance, mouth pinched tight. 

“Gentlemen?” 

“What kind of car did you get her?” Danny barked.

“You've been too busy to notice, but she has been eyeballing the Mercedes website like it's got One Direction porn-fic on it.”

“Oh my god! Steven!? This is what I meant when I told you we have to be more responsible with money. You are not buying a Mercedes for our seventeen-year-old daughter!” 

“I didn’t buy a Mercedes. I bought her a Hummer 3. The hybrid model. Great gas mileage. Dolphin blue. All the amenities. It’s beautiful.” 

“Have you lost your mind!?!” Danny bellowed, rising up off the divan, arms above his head.

“It’s the safest thing on the road. Lots of crumble room. Safety ratings out the wazoo,” Steve countered. 

“Gentlemen?” Dr. Malani interrupted again. 

Danny put his fingertips to his forehead, spun away, and took several deep breaths before he could answer. 

“Grace is top of her class. A complete natural at this. You’d be very proud,” Steve added quietly. “You should see how well she handles turns. She’s awesome, Danny, and she needs to hear that from you too.” 

“You’ve been taking her driving after school, haven’t you? While I’ve been at work, you’ve been taking Grace driving?” 

“Yes,” Steve admitted reluctantly. “She needed to practice.” 

“In the Marquis?” 

“Yes.” 

“You have been taking my baby out driving in that antiquated death trap?” 

“It’s not an antiquated death trap!” 

“You don’t even have a fucking license, and you’re giving Grace driving lessons?” 

“I know how to drive, Danny! Just because I don't have a license myself....” 

“You two have been breaking the law behind my back for sixteen weeks!?” 

Dr. Malani walked around her desk, opened a drawer, and reached inside for a small keychain device. She clicked a button, and a loud blast of noise echoed through the room, something akin to a hockey goal horn. Danny put a hand to his heart, and leapt back a foot. Steve snatched out a hand with lightning reflexes, and he deftly snagged the device away from Dr. Malani.

“What’s the matter with you?” he howled, setting the little keychain back on her desktop. “You know how I feel about loud noises.” 

“This isn’t over. We are going to talk about this later,” Danny growled again.

“By all means,” Steve growled back, crossing his arms, sitting back down on the divan. 

His therapist looked back and forth between the two of them, not sure if she should smile or not. She had of course been testing Steve with the loud noise, wanting to see if she could provoke a startle response. Dr. Malani was undoubtedly thrilled that Steve hadn’t so much as flinched. 

“I begin to understand why you were so concerned about the driving lessons,” Dr. Malani said to Steve, who was pouting big time on his half of the divan. 

“Yeah, uh huh, thanks a lot, Doc,” Steve muttered. 

“But I want you to talk to me, and to your husband, about the settlement,” Dr. Malani insisted. “Burying your feelings won’t make them disappear.”

Steve gave the doctor a dark look from under his lowered brow. Danny was sure if his therapist wasn’t a middle-aged, motherly woman, McGarrett would have slugged her. 

“In exchange for a sizeable financial settlement, and a gag order on the case, Libby gets life in prison, no chance of parole. Real prison. Not some country-club mental health facility. She’s been killing and maiming and torturing people since she was twelve years old. She killed her own little brother. Her parents disowned her, won’t even acknowledge she exists any more. Which we know because Dutch went through hell and high water to uncover her real identity. So, yeah, I am okay with that settlement. Libby is never going to breathe free air again in her life,” Steve growled his way through the words, curling up tighter and tighter as he spoke. 

“The Navy demanded a gag order, and they don’t have to acknowledge their complicity and cooperation with her actions,” Danny added ruefully. 

“The entire Navy isn’t to blame for what Libby was doing, and I don’t need or want to drag them all through the mud over this,” Steve blurted. Even after all that had happened, he had an unwavering, undying loyalty for the Navy, and that annoyed Danny to no end. 

“They made you take retirement because you pursued the case against Libby at all,” Danny muttered. 

“Their request was completely within protocol,” Steve replied. “I was not fit for reserve duty. I didn’t pass the psychological exam. I am past the age limit. It was high time for me to retire. I’m in no shape to be galloping around the globe with boys half my age. Danny, I don’t have a problem with the Navy asking me to take retirement. I don’t understand why you’re so annoyed about it. I thought you’d be thrilled I was no longer at their beck and call.” 

“They punished you for not keeping quiet. They gave you a physical and psychological exam one month after your return. Not even a month. Twenty-six days. You couldn’t even sleep an entire night through without nightmares and flashbacks at that point,” Danny said softly, reaching over to take Steve’s hand. “It wasn’t fair. You weren’t ready. They knew it. It wasn’t about you being fit for duty. They were punishing you for pursuing the case against Libby, and against them. They stripped you of the biggest portion of your identity, hoping the emotional impact would make you crumble to their demands.” 

“It doesn’t matter now. Water under the bridge.” 

“They abandoned you, and they sided with Libby, when you needed them to have your back. Yes, I’m annoyed at the Navy for how they’ve treated you,” Danny said, voice tight. “I know you were hurt by what they did, whether you can admit it or not.” 

“Like I said. It’s water under the bridge,” Steve replied, watching Dr. Malani carefully. 

“You didn’t answer Danny’s charge,” the therapist pointed out. 

“Which charge?” Steve asked innocently. 

“Were you hurt by how the Navy treated you? We've talked at considerable length about your abandonment issues.”

"You've talked at considerable length. But I don't have any abandonment issues." 

"Steven," she and Danny chided in unison.

“I was hurt at first,” Steve replied reluctantly. “But the severance package was more than adequate. And the settlement package from yesterday helped a lot to mitigate the situation.” 

“You’re letting them buy your silence?” Dr. Malani asked. Danny was nodding unconsciously to what she said, and Steve tucked himself down, burying his irritation with Danny’s admission. 

“I don’t see it that way,” Steve answered crisply. 

“How do you see it?”

“It’s been a year. It’s time to cut our losses and move on. Danny is doing the best he can to support me and our two kids, but he can’t keep doing that forever. I’m returning to work, sure, but part-time desk-duty three days a week is not going to go far in making ends meet. Grace will be applying to colleges next year, and Charlie, bless him, he’s in and out of the hospital as much as I am. I’m not letting the Navy buy my silence. I’m letting them help us alleviate the concern about how we’re going to pay for college, and doctor bills, and lawyer’s fees.”

Dr. Malani nodded quietly to Steve’s outburst. Danny fell silent, and tugged gently on Steve’s hand. 

“Steve, I was handling that fine.” 

“You were doing the best you could. This is not a reflection on your ability to provide. It’s a reflection on me. I want and I need to do more to help. We are both responsible for taking care of Grace and Charlie. And you shouldn’t have to take care of me like I’m another kid. Okay?”

“I don’t think of you as another kid, Steve?” 

“Oh really? You just tried to ground me,” Steve snorted playfully. Danny laughed in reply, shaking his head. 

“Steven, you are not ready for the stress of full time, in-field duty yet. I’d like to give you another year to become accustomed again,” the therapist murmured to Steve’s back-handed accusation. 

“You’re not ready yet for full time. I agree with Dr. Malani. It’s best to start small, Steve. Start small, and work your way back at a pace that’s comfortable for you,” Danny interjected. 

“Okay. You two agree. Good for you. I find it insulting and condescending, but hey, I’m not going to complain. At least I’ll be working again, instead of drooling in front of the TV….” 

“And surreptitiously going behind my back with illegal driving lessons?” Danny snorted. Steve huffed at him. Danny huffed back in imitation, making faces at him. Steve giggled once, and made a stab at slapping Danny’s closest arm. Danny pushed him back. Steve pushed at him again. 

“Gentlemen, if you please? Mr. McGarrett, I expect you to continue with your weekly appointments with me,” Dr. Malani prodded, picking up the hockey horn keychain and dropping it into the drawer again. The boys stopped poking each other, and made a good show of listening to the therapist.

“Yes, Doctor,” Steve nodded. 

“You will also be required to keep up with your physical rehab, the yoga, the swimming lessons.” 

“I will,” Steve promised. Danny had nothing but respect for the way Steve had devoted himself to getting back in shape, with a great deal of help from Tank and her team of skilled rehab nurses.

“We're done for today then. I will see you next Tuesday. I want you to spend time between now and then reflecting on the emotional impact of putting these events behind you.” 

“I’ll probably be thinking of very little else,” Steve remarked grimly. 

Once they were back in the Camaro, and they had cleared the parking lot of the medical building, Danny pulled up to the stoplight, and glanced at Steve. McGarrett glanced back. They both looked away. Danny pulled out into traffic. 

“That was awkward,” Steve admitted a couple minutes later, fiddling with the radio knobs. 

“At least she didn’t ask penetrating questions about our sex life again,” Danny answered. 

“Thank God,” Steve rumbled. 

_‘I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell’._

The song on the radio made Steve frown. He turned the channel as Danny chortled quietly. 

“Sorry again about last night,” McGarrett murmured.

“Steve, you have nothing to apologize for. I promised you that we’d take this slowly. And that any time you are….” 

_‘I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired….’_

“Jesus Christ. What are the odds? Two channels at once!” Steve wondered, turning the channel again. 

“Any time you’re uncomfortable with what I do, you say stop, and we’ll stop. Okay? Turn off the radio. Let’s talk.” 

“I’ve been talking for like a whole hour,” Steve whined, sitting back in the passenger seat. “Can we not talk for a while?” 

“How about if I talk and you listen?” Danny pressed. 

Steve narrowed his eyes and bit back an acidic response which would have probably ended his marriage if not his life. 

“What is it that Dr. Malani is always saying to you? You can acknowledge the negative, but focus on the positive,” Danny ventured. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever, Dr. Freud,” Steve sighed. 

“Let’s go with the positive.”

“Okay.” 

“You didn’t have to accept that settlement from the Navy, but I’m glad you did. Even though I feel like they’re buying your silence, I’m not going to lie to you. It’s going to help us make ends meet.”

“Yes. And that’s why I agreed to accept it,” Steve replied. They weren’t headed home. Danny was headed out onto the highway, mountains rising in the distance. Steve clutched his arm rest a bit tighter. 

“I went to pay the bills, and damned near had a heart attack,” Danny admitted. "But I realized pretty quickly what you must have done."

"Sorry I didn't want to talk about it last night." 

"That's okay," Danny sighed. "You needed time to deal. It's all right."

“Yeah.” 

“The Navy added a few more zeroes since the last settlement offer, I take it?” Danny asked, voice rising. 

“Um, yes. A few more zeros,” Steve nodded. 

“At what price?” 

“Um…” Steve gulped. 

“Babe, I know you, and I know your tells. There's more. What are you holding back?"

"Nothing," Steve squeaked.

"Now’s your chance. Free and clear. You tell me what else is going on, and I promise not to explode.” 

“There’s nothing else going on,” Steve denied. The car was curling up around the mountains now. They were heading into nature, Steve’s safe place. Danny turned off the air conditioner and opened the windows. Steve relaxed somewhat, putting an arm up on the door and enjoying the wind in his hair. Danny was trying desperately to put Steve as ease, and Steve was very touched by the effort.

Danny reached a hand out, stroking the back of Steve’s neck. 

“Have I told you how much I like your haircut?” 

McGarrett smiled faintly, his hand shadowing Danny’s hand as it traced his neck, slid down a shoulder, stroked over his chest. 

“You didn’t need some haggard guy with long, bushy hair, sitting around your bullpen, scaring the suspects,” Steve responded, not without humor. 

“I like it. It’s a good look for you.”

“Yeah. It only took two glasses of wine, and an extra Norpramin, and the patience of a saint.” 

“Odell was very patient with you,” Danny agreed. “And understanding about the black eye.” 

“I apologized like five times. I freaked out for a second when he put that nasty tarp on me. That’s all.” 

“And he totally understood. Like I said. Focus on the positive. You look terrific.” 

“As opposed to?” 

“Nothing. I like it. Work with me,” Danny pleaded. 

“You like that I look more like Old Steve?” 

“I like the haircut. It’s flattering. We’ve talked about this before. There is no Old Steve. There is no New Steve. There’s just Steve.”

“Okay. You like Steve’s haircut. Steve thanks you,” McGarrett replied with a tiny twitch. “Is that why you tackled me in my sleep last night?” 

“I didn’t tackle you,” Danny hedged. 

“Just saying. I would prefer to be wide awake when you’re making advances against my person. For your own safety.” 

Steve’s eyes glimmered with mischief and humor. Danny gulped. True. Cheeky but true. He had been nosing and nuzzling the back of Steve’s neck one second, only to find himself flipped ass-over-appetite off the bed and down onto the floor for his troubles. 

“Understood,” Danny whispered, hand sliding over one of Steve’s long thighs, down between his knees.

Steve moaned softly and smiled a little, his hand ghosting over Danny’s hand again. 

“I know a quiet place we can go,” McGarrett murmured. “It’s not far.” 

That’s how they found themselves in a secluded turn-around, trees rustling in the wind, watching the approaching storm clouds. Danny fumbled over the gear shift and the brake as Steve climbed into the back seat and started undoing buttons, getting as comfortable as possible. 

“Shouldn’t we at least roll up the windows?” Steve wondered, pushing his button-down shirt aside in the floorboard, licking his lips as Danny settled over his long legs. Williams all but yanked off the dull gray tee beneath, hands roaming possessively, squeezing, teasing. Mouth found mouth. They were nipping and licking at one another. Danny grunted a smart-assed reply which was lost in the sound of Steve’s bare skin squeaking against the seat.

Danny hungrily sank his teeth into Steve’s neck, while McGarrett fought with Danny’s belt like he had a personal grudge against the fashion device. Giving up on the recalcitrant belt, Steve’s fingers fumbled down into Danny’s pants, tugging his shirt free of his waistband. His sneaking fingertips left tingles of pleasure along Danny’s spine, causing his hips to thrust anxiously. 

Danny left a white-hot trail of bites and kisses around Steve’s neck, under his chin, along his jaw. Steve held on for dear life, all the while wondering how Danny was managing to get down in the floorboard between the seats and not hurt himself or Steve either one. Cool air teased over Steve’s bare skin as Danny all but yanked open his husband’s trousers and worked them downward far enough for his liking. 

Steve pined noisily as Danny sat up and reached into the front seat. The glove box opened, and Danny rooted around. Papers went flying, spilling over into the floorboard. Danny returned, panting loudly, and dropped a tube of lube on Steve’s bare stomach. He dug fingers into Steve’s hips, tugging his briefs and pants further down, freeing one leg, then the other, dropping the briefs and trousers on top of his discarded shirt and flip-flops. 

“Going too fast for you?” Danny wondered when Steve blinked at him in surprise and smirked. 

“Nope,” Steve rumbled back, sly grin working over his mouth. 

Danny pounced, spreading Steve’s knees, devouring his mouth. The lube was popped open, then dropped into the side of the seat. Danny muffled Steve’s pleasure-filled groans as he worked a digit quickly inside him. McGarrett writhed and squirmed, eyes rolling back, hips moving. Danny hovered above, perched nose to nose, tracing gentle kisses, watching Steve respond as he turned his finger and stroked his prostate. 

“Da….Danny…mmm,” Steve hummed, hips thrusting wantonly as Danny added more lube and another finger. Steve clutched at the seat with both hands, long fingers clenching, leather squeaking as he fucked himself on Danny’s fingers. Danny worked him hard and fast, smiling in approval as Steve gave himself over, willingly letting Danny take whatever he wanted. 

“Wider,” Danny whispered in Steve’s ear. Steve complied, gulping loudly as he scooted downward, legs open for his husband. He started to wrap his fingers around his aching cock, in desperate need of more friction. “No,” Danny murmured. “Hands down.” 

Steve pined anxiously, but complied. Head falling back, mouth open. Danny licked away the trickle of sweat on Steve’s temple, taking another opportunity to caress and adore his short, spiky, rough hair. Steve’s hands went for Danny’s belt again as he whimpered desperately. 

“Hands down,” Danny ordered tenderly. 

“Uh…mmmm….” Steve protested, fingers clawing at the seat. Danny eased another finger inside him, and Steve’s thighs quivered, almost closing. Danny turned his fingers, stroking masterfully over Steve's pleasure spot. Steve cried out now with each teasing tickle, toned ass practically levitating off the seat. Danny nosed down his chest, sucking longingly on one nipple, stroking inside him still. 

“Oh….oh…..oh….oh…God….Danny….” 

“Hands down,” Danny whispered again when Steve’s fingers clutched Danny’s back, slid to his hips, attempted to pull him in tight. Danny switched to Steve’s other nipple, teasing the taut nub, leaving a slick trail as he traced his tongue round and around the tip. 

“Please….please….” Steve begged openly. 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“Inside….” 

“I am inside…”

“More….fuck….more…please….oh…..oh….”

“That’s my boy,” Danny purred, finally undoing his belt and trousers. He poised against Steve’s stretched entrance, and thrust in full with one push. Steve coiled around him, moving with animal abandon, ankles locking behind Danny’s hips. 

If anyone had driven up at that moment (which, thank goodness, there was no danger of that, but if they had) it was in the back of Steve’s mind that they would have made a hysterical sight. Danny’s naked backside shining, his bruises from last night black and blue in the rear-view mirror. Steve’s long, tanned legs wrapped around him. And the noises? An uneven duet of grunts and groans and moans and curse words. 

Steve was there first, loudly and unapologetically. But in his defense, Danny had teased him into a complete frenzy, so it was Williams’ own damned fault that Steve was screaming his name, clawing his back, and jetting white-hot liquid love between them within a couple minutes. Danny made a funny noise – it might have been a gleeful giggle. In retaliation for being tormented so cruelly, Steve sank his considerable teeth into Danny’s nearest shoulder, continuing to fuck himself along his lover’s length. Danny’s world exploded into a heady mixture of pleasure and pain, and teeth, and Steve’s muted whimpers, and his own loud groans. It had been years and years since he'd been in a position like this in the back of a car. And there were good reasons for that. Not the least of which was a forty year old back and knees which were beginning to scream in protest as his natural high abated. 

“Naughty boy,” Danny chided, breath rasping as he dotted kisses along Steve’s neck and jaw. “Very naughty boy.” 

Steve squeaked against the seat, hands retreating, biting his own bottom lip as he stared at Danny with half-lidded eyes. 

“Mmm…” 

“My thoughts exactly,” Danny replied, sucking a mark into the junction between Steve’s neck and shoulder. He traced his fingers down Steve’s slick spine. “Care to head home, and go for round two?”

“Maybe,” Steve whispered. Danny held on possessively, hands grasping under Steve’s ass. He rocked teasingly in the mess between them, slick and sticky and cooling though it was. 

“You’re so gorgeous. I wanna spread you out naked on the lanai, fuck you for hours and hours, make the neighbors stare,” Danny murmured. Steve responded with a soft, sleepy laugh. Danny caught one hand, then the other, pulling Steve’s wrists behind his back. He nosed his way down to one dusky pink nipple, sucking languidly even though they were both utterly spent for the moment. 

Steve sighed happily and arched up. Danny moved to the other nipple, teasing and marking it as well. 

“Is that a yes?” Danny wondered. Steve nodded slowly, eyes closed. “That’s my boy. You stay here. I’ll drive.” 

“We should, you know, maybe get dressed?” Steve suggested tugging one hand free, reaching for his clothes. 

“Nope. I want you just like this. All the way home,” Danny whispered sultrily, even as he was maneuvering his way back into the front seat. He pulled his rumpled boxers and slacks on, eyes devouring Steve in the back seat. 

“Just like this?” Steve questioned, laughing softly in embarrassment. “I’m sticky, and wet, and…” 

“Gorgeous,” Danny interjected, pulling his dress shirt back on. “Don’t change a thing. Don’t move. Right like that,” he purred. 

Steve giggled softly again, positioning himself in the center of the seat, stretching his long legs out suggestively for a second or two before recoiling again into himself with an embarrassed chuckle. 

“I can’t ride home like this,” he protested. 

Danny glanced over one shoulder, and almost climbed on Steve again right then. McGarrett looked like a wet dream back there. Tanned skin glowing against the seat. Head tilted to one side. Hair ruffled and fluffed up on one side and along the back. Long lashes flashing. Playful smile on his lips. Danny reached back for one knee, caressing down one calf, tickling one foot. 

“Yes, you can. You got board shorts in the trunk?” 

“I think so,” McGarrett murmured. 

Danny bolted out of the car, popped the trunk, and returned, well before Steve had a chance to get nervous about the door hanging open. Cool air breezed over his skin, raising every hair on his body. Raindrops started to fall, plinking melodically on the car’s surface. 

Danny tossed the board shorts from the trunk into Steve’s grasp. 

“No. Don’t put them on until we get home,” Danny pleaded. Steve folded the trunks and dropped them in the seat. “If anyone gets curious, we’ll just tell them you were changing for the beach,” Danny grinned. 

Williams settled into the driver’s seat, adjusting the rearview mirror, eyes traveling hungrily over Steve’s body. Steve was folding the rest of his clothes, looking embarassed. Danny cleared his throat when Steve considered pulling on the tee-shirt at least.

“Put it down,” Danny warned. Steve grinned slyly, and folded the tee-shirt on top of the board shorts. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Sit back and relax. Rest. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Steve answered. Danny rolled up the windows to keep the rain out, and backed up. He touched the radio knob almost unconsciously as they began to drive away. 

_‘Sweet dreams are made of these. Who am I to disagree?’_

"Yes, indeed," Danny grinned slyly.

Steve laughed loudly, curling up again. 

“Turn on the heater, would you?” McGarrett murmured, tracing one set of toes along Danny’s forearm. 

“Lanai, my ass. We aren’t going to make it to the back porch. I’ll be surprised if we make it out of the kitchen to be honest,” Danny rumbled, fingers latching around Steve’s ankle. 

“Danny, I do have more to tell you,” Steve admitted softly. 

“Hmm? What’s that, babe?” Danny smiled gleefully, hand rubbing Steve’s calf. 

“I do sorta need to talk to you.” 

"So you're admitting I was right?"

"You were right," Steve sighed. 

“I’m listening,” Danny promised. 

Steve squirmed in the seat. 

“The settlement was a bit larger than what’s in the account now,” Steve cringed. "I spent about a third of it."

“Exactly how expensive was that Hummer you bought for Gracie?” 

“No. I got a great deal on it. You’d be proud.” 

“Proud isn’t the first emotion that springs to mind, but go ahead,” Danny rumbled. 

“I made a few donations yesterday.”

“That’s perfectly all right, babe.” 

“Good,” Steve nodded, relieved. 

“Who to?” Danny wondered. 

“ 'Keep Hawaii Wild'. The nature conservancy organization, you know?” 

“I’m not surprised,” Danny laughed, eyeing the nature around them. 

“HPD’s widows and orphans fund.” 

“I definitely approve.” 

“I also made a sizeable donation to the ‘Keep Mary in Los Angeles and Out of Your Hair’ fund.” 

“Oh my God! Do you know how much I love you!?” Danny gasped. Steve laughed in reply. 

“I know she drives you nuts.”

“She does.”

“So I made sure she is comfortable and never has to worry again. She promised to warn you before she visits.” 

“Okay. I'm good with that. Anything else?” 

“Well, while I was the bank yesterday, there was a lady in the parking lot who was crying her eyes out, looking frankly suicidal. Naturally I was concerned.” 

“Steve, what did you do?” 

“She was driving this beat-up Chevy Impala with all these animal rights and PETA stickers all over it.”

“Yes?” 

“I asked the bank lady who she was, but she wouldn’t tell me. But while the bank lady was away from her desk, verifying the deposit in our account, I may have snooped through the paperwork waiting on her desk.” 

“Get to the point,” Danny insisted, digging his fingertips in tenderly. 

“I paid off the bills and loans and liens for the Honolulu Happy Paws Society. It’s a no-kill shelter over on the other side of the island. We kind of have an appointment to meet with Miss Phillips this evening. She wants to say thank you.” 

“I see. Miss Phillips was the lady crying in the parking lot?" 

"Yeah," Steve squirmed. 

"The Honolulu Happy Paws Society? Does this mean you might be considering opening our home to a four-legged friend or two?” 

“Maybe,” Steve squeaked. “I checked out their website. There’s an adorable pair of kitten siblings looking for a home.”

“Stop being so cute. It's irritating when I'm mad at you. Is that everything?” 

“Um….not exactly….” 

“What else did you buy?” Danny wondered, coming to the stoplight before the turn for the house.

“Mama Poloi’s Luau Pizza," Steve whispered. 

Danny jolted, foot on the brake and the gas at the same time.

“You got pizza for dinner?” Danny tested. 

"Nope."

"Is this like the time you saw her commercial, and got all excited, and ordered fifteen pizzas?"

“I was really hungry."

"I guess you were!" Danny laughed. 

"That's not it." 

"Quit stalling, Steve. Spill your guts. Now." 

"We're 50/50 partners with Mama Poloi. She's losing money, thinking about retiring for good. I didn't want to chance my favorite pizza place closing. Hope you don’t mind. You like beer and pizza. It'll be great. Danny, say something.”

“You bought your favorite pizza parlor to keep it from closing?”

“Yes,” Steve said in a small voice, before giving a big, nervous smile. 

"I am dangerously close to grounding you again," Danny frowned. Steve poked him in the back of the head. "You bought a pizza parlor, an animal shelter, and a Hummer 3, and you were only left to your own devices for like, six hours? That’s kind of impressive,” Danny murmured with a sarcastic smile. “We own a bar we can’t sell for love nor money, and you went and bought a pizza parlor too? What's the matter with you?” 

“About that bar?” 

“Yes, Steven?” 

“I hired a new bartender.” 

“Okay. That is good news, really good news, being as you can’t keep filling in now that you're returning to the Five-O team. Who did you hire?” 

“Dutch.”

“Steve? Dutch lives in Virginia. How is she going to tend bar in Oahu?” 

“Well, it is our fault she got fired, so I made her a very reasonable offer to move to Hawaii and help us out.” 

“Uh huh? A reasonable offer?” Danny chortled. 

“We need to pick her up at the airport tomorrow morning.” 

“Okay,” Danny squeaked, pulling slowly into the driveway. They breathed quietly in the car for a few seconds. Danny continued to stroke Steve’s ankle absently. 

“I told Dutch she could stay with us until she found a place. Are you mad?” Steve fretted when Danny cackled unsteadily, fluffing up his own hair. 

“I’m not mad. But you are an idiot, and a big softie, and I love you,” Danny sighed. “Put on your board shorts, Animal.” 

“Yes, sir,” Steve’s smile returned. He shimmied into as few clothes as possible while Danny watched him in the rearview mirror.

“Just so you know, as adorable as you are, we are not done discussing this whole driving lesson thing.” 

“Oh, don't I know it,” Steve chuckled, pushing the passenger seat forward and slithering out of the Camaro. “You coming inside?” 

“Mm….you keep standing there, smiling like that, and I’ll be coming right here,” Danny laughed. 

Steve leaned in the car as far as he could, offering up a kiss. Danny’s hands prowled through his short hair, ruffling the wild edges as he devoured Steve’s mouth again, fingers tracing his ribs and sides. 

“I want you naked, spread eagle on our bed, right now,” Danny warned, reaching over to give Steve a swat on the butt before allowing him to straighten up again. 

“Yes, sir,” Steve whispered, hands in his pockets, tugging the board shorts down just a fraction on his hips before sauntering into the house, well aware that Danny was watching him go. His heart skipped a couple beats when he heard the car door open and close.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by my Criminal Minds fic [Fire](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5114552/chapters/11766635). I guess you can say that amnesia is one of my favorite tropes! 
> 
> Dutch, Captain Spaulding, and Ensign James appear in some of my CM fics. =)
> 
> Even though Dr. Spencer Reid makes a brief appearance, I didn't label this as a cross-over with Criminal Minds.
> 
> In case you like CM, and you want to read the story that introduces Spaulding: [67 Bodies](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5208626/chapters/12006290)


End file.
